Funny How Time Flies
by IndefiniteHeaven
Summary: Marty McFly never returned to 1985, after the DeLorean disappeared in a flash of lightning that fateful night. In fact, he ceased to exist, instead becoming Calvin Brown and spending his days in the past version of Hill Valley. As time passes though, Marty begins to change the destiny of those involved with him, and unintentionally changes into an entirely new individual. BTTF3!AU
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

 **Disclaimer:** ** **Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale own** Back to the Future, not me.**

 _~November 13th, 1955~_

Marty Seamus McFly was unceremoniously awoken by his feet slamming into the ground, as the hoverboard slid away, ears filled with the cries of children on the television about the series "Howdy Doody". He gasped in surprise, jerking up, eyes wide. He spotted Doctor Emmett Brown to his left though, causing him to relax a margin. As the sleep cleared from his head, he realized that he was muttering to himself, as he witnessed him turning off the TV. He frowned at the behavior, whispering his name. "Doc?"

He heard his friend's voice, mumbling intently, as though he was recording himself. Marty supposed he was, considering the number of times he had caught him during an experiment, recording his findings. "Date: Sunday, November 13th, 1955, 7:01 AM. Last night's travel experiment was apparently a complete success. Lightning struck the clock tower at precisely 10:04 PM, sending the necessary 1.21 gigawatts into the time vehicle, which vanished in a brilliant flash of light leaving a pair of fire trails behind."

The brunet shifted, rousing himself up from the reclining seat, as the elder man babbled on. "I, therefore assume that Marty and time vehicle were transported forward through time, into the year 1985. After that..."

Doc trailed off for a moment, as Marty stretched his arms and standing up. He headed over to the fireplace, studying the pages of the letter from 1885, attempting to decide if they were still drenched from the rain storm or not. "...after that, I can't recall what happened. In fact, I don't even remember how I got home."

He removed the now dry pages of the letter from 1885, barely listening to the words being mumbled any longer. "Perhaps, the gigawatt discharge, coupled with the temporal displacement field generated by the time vehicle, caused a disruption of my own brain waves, resulting in a condition of momentary amnesia."

He rubbed his eyes and made his way over to the eccentric scientist, sheets in hand. "Indeed, I now recall that moments after the time vehicle disappeared, into the future, I saw a vision of Marty saying he had come back from the future."

"Hey, Doc?" He asked, glancing down at the letter in his hands, frowning at the content.

"Undoubtedly, this was some sort of residual image..." He trailed, sounding dazed.

"Doc?" He attempted once more, causing his friend to turn to him in confusion. Marty startled as Doc released a horrendous screech of horror at the sight of him. He staggered back, continuing his scream, and accidentally tripped over the floating hoverboard. Marty winced, as he landed on the keys of the piano, and caught the board, as it was flung into the air. A chord rang deeply throughout the room, Doc trembling wildly, staring in dismay at him. The 17-year-old advanced immediately forward to his startled best friend, tossing his board to the left, the machine floated on it's own. "Doc, calm down okay? Just calm down. It's me. It's Marty."

"No, it can't be you! I sent you back to the future!" Doc cried out in protest, chord still echoing around them.

He waved his hand at him. "That's right, Doc. That's right, but I came back, again. I came back from the future. Don't you remember last night? You fainted! I brought you home!"

"This can't be happening! You can't be here!" He continued to shriek, shoving past Marty. He began to sprint from the room, his hair a state of disarray, as he shook his head. Marty briefly thought of the scientist of 1985, always having his hair completely in chaos. "It doesn't make sense for you to be here! I refuse to even believe that you are here!"

He slammed the kitchen door shut in his face, leaving Marty alone in the living room. He yelled at the door, hoping to have the elder man understand the situation. "Doc, I am here, and it does make sense. Look, I came back to 1955, again, with you, the you from 1985, because we had to get a book from Biff! So, once I got the book back, you, that is the you from 1985, were in the DeLorean, and it got struck by lightning, and you got sent back to 1885!"

The brunet ran his hand through his hair, frustrated about the entire situation. Doc, on the other hand, sounded surprised, voice slightly muffled through the closed door separating them. "1885?!"

The door was flung open in an instant, his eyes wide with skepticism and voice quite hoarse. "That's a very interesting story, _future boy_ , but there's one little thing that doesn't make sense! If the me of the future is now in the past, how could you possibly know about it?"

"You sent me a letter." He flung it into the man's face, his face morphing into one of surprise.

Doc read the letter aloud, using a magnifying glass to view the familiar handwriting. " _Dear Marty, if my calculations are correct, you will receive this letter immediately after you saw the DeLorean struck by lightning._ "

He made his way over to Marty, who was toying around with his Brain-Wave Analyzer. " _First, let me assure you that I'm alive and well. I've been living happily these past eight months in the year 1885. The lightning bolt, that hit the Delorean, caused a gigawatt overload, which scrambled the time circuits, activated the Flux Capacitor, and sent me back to 1885. The overload shorted out the time circuits and destroyed the flying circuits. Unfortunately, the car will never fly again._ "

Marty stared at him, before removing the helmet from his head. "It actually flew?"

The teen swiped his head through his hair, before explaining. "Yeah, we had a hover conversion done in the early 21st century."

"Incredible!" He exclaimed, before continuing on. " _I set myself up as a blacksmith, as a front, while I attempted to repair the damage to the time circuits. Unfortunately, this proved impossible, because suitable replacement parts will not be invented until 1947._ "

He moved on to the next page. " _However, I've gotten quite adept at shoeing horse and fixing wagons._ "

Doc grinned wildly at Marty. "1885! Amazing! I actually end up a blacksmith in the Old West."

"Pretty heavy, huh?" He replied, visibly not as enthusiastic as his companion.

Doc continued on, oblivious to the fact that Marty seemed to be down. With a pang in his heart, the brunet realized the 1985 Doc would of picked up on this, the moment it had occurred, but 1955 Doc hadn't know him as long as the other had. " _I have buried the DeLorean in the abandoned Delgado Mine, adjacent to the old Boot Hill Cemetery, as shown on the enclosed map. Hopefully, it should remain undisturbed and preserved, until you uncover it in 1955. Inside, you will find repair instructions._ "

" _My 1955 counterpart-that's me-should have no problem repairing it, so that yiu can drive it back to the future. Once you have returned back to 1985, destroy the time machine,_ " His eyes widened at this. "Destroy it?"

"Yeah, well, it's a long story, Doc."

" _Do not, I repeat, do not attempt to come back to get me. I am perfectly happy living in the fresh air and wide-open spaces. And I fear unnecessary time travel only risks further disruption of the space-time continuum. And please take care of Einstein for me._ "

Doc frowned. "Einstein?"

"He's your dog, Doc. Einstein is what you call your dog in 1985."

He scoffs, shaking his head, before finishing off the letter. " _I know you will give him a good home. Remember to walk him twice a day and that he only likes canned dog food. These are my wishes. Please respect them and follow them. And so Marty, I now say farewell, and wish you Godspeed._ "

Marty swallowed thickly, before standing next to Doc, reading the last words to himself, as the elder man read them aloud. " _You've been a good, kind, and loyal friend to me, and you made a real difference in my life. I will always treasure our relationship and think on you with fond memories, warm feelings, and a special place in my heart. Your friend in time, Doc Emmett L. Brown. September 1st, 1885._ "

Marty sighed wearily, running his hand through his hair. Doc felt his heart throb at the contents of the letter, before leaning over to the brunet, voice hoarse with emotion. "I never knew I could write anything so touching..."

"I know, I know, Doc, it's beautiful."

Copernicus whined fretfully, causing Doc's attention to be shifted to the animal. His voice came out soothing, hoping to calm the nerves of the dog. "It's all right, Copernicus. Everything is going to be fine."

Marty couldn't help the feelings welling up inside his heart any longer. "I'm sorry, Doc! It's all my fault you're stuck back there. I never should of let Biff get to me!"

Doc immediately protested at his guilt. "There are plenty of worse places to be than the Old West. I could of ended up in the Dark Ages. They probably would of burned me at thee stake, at a heretic or something."

Marty shrugged, appearing unconvinced, before Emmett pointed at the map in his hands. "Let's look at the map. Alright, according to this, the time vehicle is sealed off in a side tunnel. We may have to blast."

 _~BTTF~_

As Doc exploded the mine entrance in the silent cemetery, planks of rotted wood, gravel, and thick swells of dust erupt into the air, falling on the grounds below. Marty and Emmett cringed at the noise and debris flung into the air. "Woah! I think you woke up the dead with the blast!"

Doc grinned deliriously, thrusting a camera into the brunet's hands. "Take this camera. I want to document everything!"

They began to trudge into the mine, mindful of the debris by the entrance, following along the railroad tracks leading inside. Copernicus led the way into the darkness, the trio's head lamps bringing light into the darkened tunnel. As Doc spoke, his voice echoed around the enclosed space, as the pair shined the flashlight around for any sign of the DeLorean. "This reminds me of the time I attempted to reach the center of Earth. I'd been reading my favorite author, Jules Verne. I spent weeks preparing that expedition, but I didn't get this far. Of course, I was only twelve at the time...You know, it was the writing of Jules Verne that had a profound effect on my life. It was when I was eleven, that I first read 'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea'. It was then, that I realized, that I must devote my life to science."

Marty bobbed his head up and down at the new knowledge he had acquired of from his friend. He wasn't surprised that Doc was into those type of science-fiction stories. He would recall the nights he had spent watching those sort of movies with the elder man throughout the years of their friendship. He was distracted from his thoughts, as he noticed a blocked off entrance of wooden planks to left. He knocked upon it, when discovering a pair of familiar initials were written out on them. "Doc, check it out. Look at this."

Doc gasped as he shined his light over them. "My initials! Just like 'Journey to the Center of the Earth'! That must mean that the time machine is right through this wall."

Marty snapped a picture, beginning to become enthusiastic at the knowledge that they were going to recuse his Doc. The scientist removed the wooden planks with a crowbar, while Marty dug away at the rocks with a pick axe. They were both startled, as rocks and planks tumbled away, revealing a hidden cave behind what they had discovered. They shined their flashlights inside, revealing the DeLorean to be in there. Marty's face drained of blood, as Doc cried out. "Great Scott!"

The DeLorean was buried beneath piles of fallen rock, tumbled from above, due to the explosion they had done by the entrance. The areas of the vehicle visible appeared to be crushed beyond repair. It seemed Doctor Emmett Brown had his wished granted, that the time machine be destroyed. After a moment of silence, Marty scrambled into the cave, pick ax forgotten, dropping to his knees before the accident. His hand reached out, scrapping across the debris, in hopes of recovering the beloved time machine, shaking his head in horror. "No, no, no! This can't be happening! It's can't, no!"

As his hands began to bleed, from the rugged terrain cutting his hands, the rock slide shifted, partly crumbling towards Marty. He felt arms enclosing around his frame, pulling him away, as the entire vehicle was buried beneath a landslide of foundation. "NO!"

"Marty! Marty, please calm yourself!" Doc cried into his ear, as he fought passionately against the elder man. He bucked fiercely against his friend, receiving pained groans in return. "M-Marty!"

"Please! Please, you can't leave me again, Doc, you can't!" He wailed, throat burning.

"Martin, I'm right here!"

"YOU'RE NOT MY DOC!" The brunet screamed, words echoing off the walls surrounding them.

His fighting streak left his body after the scream, leaving him wearily leaning into the elder man clinging to his frame. His voice came out hoarse and Marty felt guilt encase him as Doc spoke. "I know, Marty, I know..."

"...Doc...I-I didn't mea-" He attempted to apologize, realizing his mistake.

"No, no, you did. It's alright. You met your Doc in the 80's. I'm from the 50's. We're different people, I understand that, Marty." He sighed into the brunet's ear.

Marty sniffled, feeling his eyes welling in tears. "I-I'm never seeing him, again, am I?"

"I'm afraid it seems so for the moment..." Doc whispered into his ear, as he embraced his sobbing friend, Copernicus pacing in front of the rubble behind the pair.

 _~BTTF~_

Marty stared unexpressively outside the truck window, cheek squished against the clear material. His breath was fogging up the inside, warm air meeting cold outside one. His frame shook from the frigid aroma, though he didn't seem to mind, distracting him from the pangs of agony in his heart. Doc sighed, observing the huddled form of the teenager, standing by the open door of the driver's seat. He whispered to the brunet, feeling concerned about his behavior. "I've almost finished loading the supplies."

"Ok." Marty muttered, voice barely heard.

"...Marty, everything is going to be alright, you know that, right?" Doc attempted to reassure him.

"Yeah."

Doc decided he shouldn't probe for more of an answer from him when he was in this state. He slammed the driver's side door shut, glancing once more at his friend on the passenger side, before continuing his loading. He finished stowing the rest of the TNT supplies into the trunk, before realizing his pet was missing from the area. He frowned, deciding to go search for Copernicus, calling out into the night. "Copernicus! Copernicus, where are you boy?!"

He heard barking in the distance, following it deeper into the ancient graveyard. He spotted the outline of of his pet through the fog surrounding him, hurriedly approaching the creature. Copernicus laid in front of a tombstone, whimpering fretfully as he neared. "There you are, boy."

Doc plucked up the dog, glancing briefly at the tombstone, before turning away. He froze, whirling back around, gasping as he read the inscription to himself aloud. " _Here lies Emmett L. Brown, died September 7th, 1885. Shot in the back by Buford Tannen over a matter of 80 dollars. Erected in eternal memory by his beloved Clara._ "

He chewed his lip fretfully, before frowning at the woman's name of his grave. He had never heard of Clara and wondered if Marty knew who she was. He supposed the teenager wouldn't considering the time period. He stared at it for a moment longer, before he rushed off, feeling unnerved by what he had witnessed. He headed back to the truck, a struggling Copernicus tucked underneath his arm. He flung open the vehicle's door, setting the animal in-between the pair, as he settled himself into the driver's seat. Doc started the ignition, truck roaring to life, flicking on the headlights. He didn't move though, hands shaking from either the bitter cold or the concern he had for his future self stuck in the past.. "Marty, I have to tell you what I saw in the cem-"

"I don't really want to talk right now, Doc. I just want to go wash this blood off my hands and go to bed." The brunet mumbled;

"...Of course, Martin." Doc responded dejectedly, feeling his heart throb by the rejection of his friend, the tombstone forgotten.

 _End Chapter 1_

 **Happy Back to the Future day everyone! This story will obviously be an AU of the events in BTTF3 and will be set in the past. That doesn't mean we won't ever see the 1985 Doc though, but that will be for a later date. For now, I'll leave you with this thought: If the ravine was named after Clara Clayton in the beginning of the movie, then how does Doc's grave have her name on it, if she was supposed to dead, until our beloved time traveler's messed with her fate?  
**

 **Preview:**

"Calvin?!" George McFly exclaimed in shock, a familiar shade of lipstick smeared across his cheek.

"Surprise, I'm back!" Marty chuckled at his future father's face.

"George, did your parents return early?" Lorraine called from upstairs, bolting down the stairs, revealing her flushed face. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, before launching herself at her future son, arms embracing him. "Calvin!"

Marty stumbled back a few steps, before embracing his mother back, smiling. "Hey, Lorraine."

"I thought you left! What're doing back?!" She cried, retracting from the embrace they had shared.

"Well, I'm gonna be living with my 'uncle' for awhile."

"Your uncle lives here?" George tilted his head to side, as though attempting to remember if he had mentioned him before or not. "Who is he?"

"Oh, Doctor Emmett Brown, you know th-"

"Doctor Emmett Brown?!" George cried in horror.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

 **Disclaimer:** ** **Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale own** Back to the Future, not me.**

 _~November 16th, 1955~_

As the November days passed, the storm clouds morphed into snow clouds, preparing for the upcoming winter season. Though there hadn't been any heavy snow falls quite yet, there remained a sense of frigidness to the atmosphere, warning those of Hill Valley that blankets of white would soon consume the town whole. Along Riverside Drive though, where the Von Braun mansion was situated, the inhabits inside had other matters on the mind. Inside in this slightly depleted building, was one Doctor Emmett Brown, who days earlier thought time traveling to be wistful dreaming, was quite frankly tried of Marty McFly's behavior. Throughout the past few days, Doc had been messing around with the calculations involving the time machine, beginning to become frustrated and confused. He would of asked Marty if he remembered anything his future self had said on it, but he didn't think the teenager would provide him a good enough answer. After the three days since they had discovered the DeLorean to be crushed underneath rubble, Marty had done nothing, but lay on the couch and reread that letter, hardly eating anything. In fact, the only time he had left was to use the restroom, though he hadn't showered once since he had met the teenager. If that wasn't worrisome enough, he appeared to be the walking dead, dark shadows underneath his eyes, always grumbling incoherently underneath his breath. This would of continued on, if it wasn't for Doc's interference. "Marty, this has to stop."

The teenager didn't respond to the older man looming beside the couch he was laid out upon. Marty simply continued to stare at the letter in his hands, a frown on his own face, as though in deep concentration. Doc released a sigh, before snatching it straight from the brunet's hands. That seemed to gain his attention, as he immediately cried out his protest against the action. "Hey, give that back!"

"I most certainly will not! I've let this behavior go on far too long and it's time I put an end to this!" Marty rolled off the couch, stumbling over his own feet, before reaching out desperately for the letter. Doc staggered back a few feet from him, raising his arm high above the brunet's head, his hand attempting to reach the paper he held. "You've been wallowing in self-pity for three days now and I think it's about time we sort this out!"

"God dammit, Doc, give it back!" He was startled as Marty launched himself at his waist, causing him to stagger further back, letter slipping from his hands, directly into the roaring fireplace behind them. Marty immediately shoved him aside, Doc flopping over onto the couch, head nearly slamming into the side table beside it. His friend cried out in horror, reaching frantically into the fire. "No!"

Doc released a gasp, finding the situation to be a mirror image of the mining incident the previous week, aware how willingly Marty would be to injure himself for the letter. He was on the teenager in an instant, embracing his waist, and lifting him into the air. As the scientist attempted to turn him away, Marty's legs flayed about in protest. He continued to drag him away from the licking flames that nearly made contact with Marty's hand, ignoring the blows his own legs were receiving. His left leg buckled beneath him though, when Marty's foot impacted with his kneecap, causing the pair to topple over. Doc's back slammed into the side table, the lamp falling off with a clatter of noise. The letter burned before their eyes, the brunet's face crumbling at the sight. "D-Doc, please!"

Realizing how important this was to him, he released Marty, and pushed aside the the table. He nearly fell over the lamp, though he rightened his lost of balance. Doc quickly reached into the fireplace for the remainder of the letter. Heat seared into hand from the dancing flames and he bit back his cry of pain. The letter was thrown onto the ground, Doc stomping upon it, before the flames disappeared from their view. He observed his blistered hands, the pain not quite processing in his shocked brain, before glancing back at the partially ashy remains of the letter. Marty stared in shock from his spot on the floor. "Jesus, Doc!"

"M-Marty, I'm sorry, that I wasn't able to save much, but I-"

Marty was in front of him suddenly, clutching onto his wrist, overturning his burnt hand. He appeared quite distressed, tears welling in his exhausted eyes. "We need to get you to a hospital!"

"Now, Marty, it's actually not that bad. I've been burnt worse from my experim-" He begun, attempting to reassure him.

"It _is_ bad! Your hand is burnt, all because of _me_!" Marty cried, shaking the limp wrist around. Pain, now reaching his shocked brain, caused him to yelp out his discomfort from the movement.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry!" He dropped Doc's hand, when he realized what he had done to the scientist. His hand flopped into his thigh, causing him to release a screech, tears springing to his eyes. He squeezed his lids shut, attempting to breathe through the agony he was currently experiencing. "Oh, shit! I'm sorry, again, Doc!"

He cracked his eyes open, hoarsely croaking out his reply. "T-That's quite alright. I-If I run my hand under some lukewarm water and bandage it, then I should be fi-"

Doc's uninjured hand was snatched by Marty and he was practically dragged into the kitchen. The elder man was startled about Marty's increasingly concerning behavior and the visible distressed appearance. The elder man has suspected a type of breaking point during the week, but hadn't thought it would occur in a such a event. The facet was turned on, a stream of water spraying from the head. The wrist of his injured hand was grasped, plunged underneath the water. Doc flinched at the abrupt contact, before the tension of pain reduced, his breath releasing in a whoosh of content. When his pain was at an manageable level, he glanced over at Marty, noticing his jaw quivering. "Marty?"

"Oh my god, " He moaned in reply, running his trembling hands through his greasy hair. "Y-You don't have even have any burns on your hand in 1985! Oh my god! I-I MESSED UP TIME, _AGAIN_!"

Doc immediately snapped the facet off, observing his friend grasping his hair, shaking his head frantically. "Marty? Marty, I think you need to take a dee-"

"Shit, shit, I-I can't be here, I-I just can't! I-I'm just screwing up everything over and ov-" Marty sounded hysterical towards the end, before the elder man clung to the teenager's shoulder with his uninjured hand, shaking his head.

"No, Marty, don't go down that road. Trust me when I say that that line of thinking will get you no where!"

"B-But...it is my fault...everything is...e-everything..." He whispered, sounding distant, despite the fact he was in front of Doc. "I screwed u-up everything..."

Doc snapped his fingers in front of the teenager, causing Marty to return to the present. He was beginning to wonder if what he had experienced with the future version of himself, had induced a type of Post Traumatic State in the teenager. He wouldn't be able to confirm such a theory though, as he wasn't a psychologist or knew the details of what they went through. He couldn't let Marty blame himself over the disruption of time though. "Listen to me, Marty. I don't exactly know all the details of what happened, but you can't blame yourself on everything. Marty, people make mistakes. But, if you keep believing you messed _everything_ up, you're going to take yourself to a very dark place, that will take a long time to return from."

"B-But, it is my fault...I...I'm the one who had to buy that stupid book in the future..."

"Now, Marty, I don't know exactly what occurred to you, since I last saw you get into that DeLorean, but I would like to know. I'm quite frankly worried about your self-destructive thinking and the fact that you reached into the fireplace, without a second thought!" Doc exclaimed, Marty biting his lip, as he glanced away. "...first though, I need to get this bandaged up and take some aspirin..."

"A-Aspirin? Isn't Ibuprofen supposed to be better for you?"

He frowned. "Ib-what? What in the world is that?"

"You know, those painkill...do they not have it in 1955?" He whisper aloud to himself, appearing horrified at what he revealed.

"Marty, things aren't quite the same as 1985 an-" Doc slowly begun, his concern rising.

"I know that!" He snapped in reply, though he felt bad the moment he witnessed the hurt on his friend's face. "Ah, shit, Doc, sorry...I just feel...overwhelmed right now. It's been...a rough few days...or week...or...ugh, I'm just...ugh, this is heavy, Doc..."

"It's understandable how you feel, though I'm not sure on the meaning behind your futuristic slang, Marty. Though I don't think I shouldn't know the finer details, I do think you need to tell me everything that happened during your time traveling adventures you've gone through."

 _~BTTF~_

"...and then that car pulled up and the post office guy gave me the letter from the 1985 you, stuck in 1885." Marty concluded, observing the distressed Doc, beginning to realize he was correct in the choice of not mentioning that he had been held at gunpoint by alternate future Biff. He realized, that perhaps there was much he could of left out, but it was far too late now to retract his words.

"My god, my future self is right! This shouldn't ever have been created in the first place! You two could of caused a rift in the space-time continuum! I knew the moment I heard myself say 1.21 gigawatts, that this time machine idea was a disaster!" He exclaimed, shaking his head wildly, throwing his hands into the air.

"Doc, Doc, calm down, alright! We can just wait for another storm an-"

"Oh, and by any chance do you know where another bolt of lightning is going to strike?"

"Well, not exactly, bu-"

"Marty, I understand you still hope to get back immediately, but the reality of the situation is that you're going to have to wait a few years."

"Years?! No, I can't do that! Look, you can just remake it an-"

"I'm having some slight difficulties with that at the moment. And, have you forgotten that plutonium is needed for the fuel?"

"No, but we can go and fin-"

"I haven't the foggiest idea where I could locate any plutonium! We are not in 1985!"

"I know, I know! You got it off of some Libyan terrorists an-"

"Terrorists?!"

"Would you stop interrupting me for two seconds?! You tricked them into thinking you were going to make a bomb, but you just used it as fuel for the DeLorean instead and then they found us and SHOT YOU DOWN AND I THOUGHT YOU WERE _DEAD_!" Marty sounded nearly hysterical at the end, the images of his friend being shot down, haunting him, now that he wasn't distracted about fixing time.

Doc stared at him, blinking slowly. "...What?"

"Jesus...it's...it's what I wrote in the letter...and, god...I...but, you wrote the letter and saved yourself...you...you were supposed to tape it back together and read it...but, you weren't supposed to find out like this..." He muttered to himself, face buried into his hands.

Marty didn't bother lifting his head from his hands, when he heard the scientist remove himself from the couch across from him. Nor, did he do so, as he heard Doc exit the room, leaving him alone in the living room. He gulped, realizing his mistake about revealing that much about the future. He only hoped Doc would heed his warning about the terrorist and take necessary precautions. Last time, Doc had decided to read it himself, but he hoped that this didn't deter his decision. He flinched, glancing up, when he heard the contents of the coffee table in front of him, split out across the floor. Doc knelt before it, laying out the torn pieces of the letter, from Marty's first time travel mishap, onto the wooden surface. He ripped off pieces of tape, from the roll beside his left arm, connecting the pieces together. The brunet simply stared at the blond, stunned that his confession about the future, motivated him to read it right way. Doc cleared his throat, reading aloud the writing scrawled out across it. " _Dear_ _Dr. Brown, On the night that I go back in time at 1:30 AM, you will be shot by terrorists. Please take whatever precautions are necessary to prevent this terrible disaster. Your friend, Marty._"

Doc glanced up from the letter, observing his distraught appearing friend. "Marty...I...are you alright?"

Marty snorted, shaking his head. "You're asking me if I'm alright? I just dropped a bomb on you and you're worried about me!"

"Honestly, Marty, I figured after watching that portable video device, that I ended up with a terrible fate. I mean, one doesn't typically face terrorists with weapons and get away unscathed. I'm more concerned about you though, my friend. You've been obsessing over that letter for days now and...well...I didn't want to say anything, but I've been hearing you crying out in your sleep at night."

The 17-year-old gulped, before confessing to the older man. "I...sorry, I been...thinking a lot about things...and I keep seeing things when I try sleeping..."

"Do you want to talk about any of it?"

"There's not much to talk about...sometimes I see you getting shot...sometimes I see my Dad's grave in that weird alternate timeline...sometimes it's just me disappearing from existence...just stuff like that..." He trailed off, glancing away. Marty was startled though, when he felt a pair of arms engulf him. "Doc?"

"Everything is going to fine, Marty. It will take a few years to create the time machine and fuel for it, but I will get you back to your own time," The scientist comforted Marty, rubbing his shoulder. He released Marty, observing the teenager wiping his nose and sniffling. "I'm sure if I arrange some of my calculations and research other more natural fuels, I can think of something else to use, besides plutonium."

"T-Thanks...how...how long do you think it's gonna take?"

"I want to say roughly 10 years, but perhaps a bit lees than that, if I can find a suitable substitute for the vehicle and fuel."

"What? 10 years?!"

"Marty, please, there isn't much I can do at the moment, besides research alternatives and adjust my calculations."

"I'll be 27, for Christ's sake! How would I explain that, when I got back to 1985?!"

"We'll figure out that road bump, when we get to it. For now though, we'll work together on it and you're going to try and not to tell me too much about the future."

Marty bit his lip, bobbing his head up and down. He shouldn't stress on that, especially since returning eventually, would be better than returning never. He wasn't sure if he could keep his mouth shut about the details of the future though, but he decided not to mention that to the scientist. "What am I supposed to do in the meantime though, Doc? I can't just sit around here and do nothing. I mean, I can barely understand half of what you tell me in the future. I mean, I ask you what something means and you say you'll tell me later and then you never do."

He frowned. "I do that? Well, um, I'll make sure you understand then. I did teach some physics and chemistry classes at the local community college after all, so it shouldn't be too hard to teach you about all of this."

"Wait, you worked at Hill Valley Community College?"

"Yes, did my future self not mention that?"

"No, not really, but there's a lot of things you would say you didn't want to talk about, when I brought up your past." Marty thought about the explosive reaction he had received the one time he attempted to bring up Doc's family, the first Christmas they had known one another. Being 13-years-old at the time, he had thought it was depressing, that he spent the holidays alone and went to visit him. He had never expected being yelled at, when he questioned the elder man about the Von Brauns. He had gotten a phone call the following day, after being reduced to tears, Doc apologizing for his terrible behavior. Marty didn't ever try bringing up his family, ever again.

"Perhaps I didn't want to make you aware of the fact that I accidentally burnt down their original science department and ended up being fired due to the incident."

"What th-? How the hell did you burn down a building?"

"...I think my future self was right in the assumption that providing you with details of my past, was not a good idea."

"What do yo-?"

"Anyways, did you go to school in 1985, Marty?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm in...well, I was, in my senior year."

"You wanted to know what you should do for now...well, how about you finishing off the remainder of your school year?"

 _~BTTF~_

 _~November 18th, 1955~_

By the time Friday rolled around, the trees lined up the side of the streets were bare, colors of leaves masking the dying grass underneath. The wood of the pine trees seemed decayed, but were in fact darkened from the weather, very much alive though. The abrupt change would of startled those in other locations of California, but in Hill Valley, such changes in the weather were always abrupt. A lone finger waltzed down the sidewalk, leaves crunching beneath his feet, clad in a tan jacket, with maroon lapels and sleeves. His hands were buried into his dark slacks, his white button-up starkly contrasted from the other hues he wore. Marty made his way across the street, arriving st the McFly household, ringing their doorbell. He waited for a minute, before the door sun open inwards, Marty blinking in surprise at the individual's appearance, taking in his ruffled hair. "George?"

"Calvin?!" George McFly exclaimed in shock, a familiar shade of lipstick smeared across his cheek.

"Surprise, I'm back!" Marty chuckled at his future father's face, getting over his surprise, as the door was slammed shut behind him.

"George, did your parents return early?" Lorraine called from upstairs, bolting down the stairs, revealing her flushed face. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, before launching herself at her future son, arms embracing him. "Calvin!"

Marty stumbled back a few steps, before embracing his mother back, smiling. "Hey, Lorraine."

"I thought you left! What're doing back?!" She cried, retracting from the embrace they had shared.

"Well, I'm gonna be living with my 'uncle' for awhile."

"Your uncle lives here?" George tilted his head to side, as though attempting to remember if he had mentioned him before or not. "Who is he?"

"Oh, Doctor Emmett Brown, you know th-"

"Doctor Emmett Brown?!" George cried in horror. "The crazy scientist that abducts dogs and then kills them with his experiments?!"

"What the hell are you talking about? Doc's never killed anything in his life!" Marty immediately protested, though he decided to leave out the fact, that he had thought Einstein had been killed during an experiment, on more than one occasion.

"How do you explain all the dogs that go missing and the howling you can hear from his house then?"

Lorraine reached out, grasping onto his shoulder and hissing into his ear. "You know perfectly well, that the noise comes from the forest next to him and not his mansion!"

He frowned down at her, eyebrows furrowing. "My father says that he's seen weird lights and heard the dogs yelping, when he drives by, on his way home from work. That's why he always tells me to stay away from his house!"

"Well, my parents say to stay away from him, too, but I've been there, in his garage and he seems to be very nice. Though he is slightly strange, no offense, Marty."Lorraine directed her attention away from her boyfriend, to the pissed off 17-year-old standing before the pair. She seemed to be attempting to diffuse the situation and the brunet was thankful for his mother seeing Doc the way he truly was.

"That's alright, Lorraine. He wouldn't hurt anyone though. Doc is just eccentric...like, uh, how Einstein was."

"See what I mean, George? He's just eccentric, like Marty says. You should meet him, he really i-"

"I don't really know if I want to..." George muttered to himself, before moving the conversation along. "Why are you staying with him anyways, Calvin? What about your parents?"

Shit, Marty and Doc hadn't planned ahead on the details they were going to build up, as the cover story. As he fumbled with the correct words for a situation as this, he came up with the first lie he could come up with. "Um, uh...they, uh...well, they sorta...died when I was little?"

Lorraine gasped, covering her hands over her mouth, before slapping her boyfriend on the shoulder. "Look what you did, George! That was personal and we didn't need to know that!"

George appeared guilty at the revelation, rubbing his shoulder from the area where his girlfriend had hit him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Calvin, I didn't mean t-"

"No, it's fine, it's cool. They got in a...car accident, when I was five..." He trailed, attempting to appear devastated at his parents "dying" and leaving him . He wasn't sure how he could come up with lies as he did, but they seemed to be work out fine, especially considering that George fell for the whole alien routine he had done, to get him to ask out Lorraine. "I'm alright though. Doc adopted me, when that happened and I've lived with him since."

"And you thought Doctor Brown was a bad guy, George!"

"Wait a second though, if he adopted you, then why is your last name Klein?" George questioned, eyes squinting.

Marty was startled by the insight his father seemed to possess, one he hadn't noticed the man to ever have. Maybe it had always been there though, perhaps buried as time had passed, leading George McFly to be who he was, in Marty's original 1985. He hadn't interacted with the new version of his 1985 father enough, to know if he had any of that insight. Marty wasn't even sure when he would find out. The brunet was able to fib through his story so far, so he supposed he should be able to easily do it now. "I wanted to go by Klein, because that was my Dad's last name...I think I want to change it to Brown though, because it just confuses people."

"Oh, Mar-" Lorraine began, appearing as distraught as her boyfriend at the information they had been provided with. The trio was startled at the sound of a vehicle pulling into a driveway. His parents stared at one another in horror, Lorraine grasping onto his arm, and shaking him. "Oh, no, your mother is home, George!"

"Uh, why are yo-?' Marty began, not quite understanding why they were frightened about his grandmother arriving home. He had never personally met her, as she had passed away when he was merely two-years-old. He had met his grandfather and didn't take a likening to the man, finding him too im;posing and judgmental on his views, each time he would visit for the holidays.

"My mother doesn't like people coming over without permission, especially if it's a girl. She'll lose it, if she sees you two in here! You need to go!" George exclaimed, beginning to shove Lorraine and Marty, towards the back door. Marty stumbled into his mother, causing her to nearly topple over, as the sound of the front door unlocking was heard. "Hurry!"

"Alright, alright, we're going! Stop with all the shoving, would you?" Marty flung open the door, Lorraine scurrying out, with Marty in the rear. Before slamming the door shut, he glanced over his shoulder at George. He was laid out across the couch, pretending to be reading a comic book on aliens, appearing nonchalant. "George?"

He glanced up at him, then at the front door, observing the handle jiggling, and hissed at his friend nervously. "What, Calvin?"

"See you on Monday!" He slammed the door shut, bursting into hysterics, as he heard a woman screeching, asking if someone was just in their household, before she had entered. Lorraine joined in on the laughter, bending over at the waist, when they heard George immediately protest this. They leaned into one another, laughter shaking their frames. Marty shook his head and Lorraine wiped away a stray tear. "Come on, we better go, before she comes out here and finds us."

"Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?" The brunette asked him, as they opened the back gate to the McFly house, exiting the property. A range of colors were spread out across the sky behind them, as the sun settled, air beginning to feel crisp to their exposed skin. "My mom absolutely loves you and she would be really happy if you did!"

"Ah, geez, I would Lorraine, but I gotta get back home. I told Doc I would be back soon and I don't wanna worry him, you know?" Marty explained, not wanting to go through the awkward feeling he would receive, when he was surrounded by his other relatives. He honestly wasn't sure he could handle being around them, feeling slightly stressed about how little progress they had made in the near week he had been trapped in 1955.

"Oh, that's perfectly alright. Maybe I could convince George to meet Doc this weekend and finally see what a nice man he is." Lorraine suggested, as the leaves beneath them crunched.

"Yeah, maybe we can...anyways, I'll see you around, Lorraine."

"Calvin?" Her voice calling after him, halting him from leaving. He turned around, retracting a few steps back to her, observing the concern evident on her young face. The sunset illuminated her features and he thought about how lovely she seemed, hoping she wouldn't ever become the alcoholic version of his own mother he had lived with for most of his life. He preferred the new and livelier version he had briefly encountered in 1985. "Are you ok? You look really tired and...well, I don't know..."

He smiled wearily at her, his feelings starting to unravel before her. He hadn't been able to sleep well for the entire week now and he supposed the damage was beginning to show on him. The nightmares wouldn't leave him alone and ever since Doc had informed him that he knew about them, he would be awoken by the scientist from them. He had felt guilt about the lost of sleep that he was giving Doc, but the older man assured him that he was working on his calculations through most of the nights. He had yet to ask Marty for any assistance, so he couldn't be sure of the claim. "I'm...fine, really. Just, uh, been working on some stuff with Doc."

She frowned. "If you say so..."

"Goodnight." He left her in the twilight, feeling her eyes on his back. Marty wouldn't ever let her know the night terrors he suffered from and who he truly was. He couldn't do that to her or to anyone else. He needed Doc to cease his attempts at waking him, so he could stop lying and actually sleep. With this determination in his mind, he headed to the Von Braun mansion.

 _End Chapter 2_

 **Happy Wednesday everyone! I'm very pleased about the amount of followers I already have for this chapter and I really do appreciate the support you've all given me so far. Anyways, each chapter will have notes section and a preview for the next chapter, so expect those each update. Notes for this chapter include the following: Since the exact age of Doc isn't made clear, (the games and novels have varying ages, while the movie doesn't even provide one) I decided to make his year of birth in 1917, so that would make him 36-years-old in 1955. For Doc's hair color, I had a bit of trouble seeing if it was blond or white by that point, so I had to Google it. Sure enough, his hair is described be blond in the 50's.  
**

 **Preview:**

"KLEIN!" Marty paled dramatically at the roar he heard from behind, heart thumping in his chest, as he whirled around. Biff Tannen was in the middle of the hallway, pointing at him, shoulder heaving from his fuming anger. The students occupying the area, scurried away immediately, as he began to rapidly approach Marty. It was completely irrational to be afraid of the teenager, but he couldn't help but think of when he was on the roof in the alternate 1985, before he knew Doc was there, having a gun aimed at him. "YOU'RE DEAD MEAT!"


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

 **Disclaimer:** ** **Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale own** Back to the Future, not me.**

 _~November 18th, 1955~_

As Marty approached the garage, he paused, staring up at the darkened sky. The stars shone, twinkling pinpricks distant in the sky. He remembered when he was 13-years-old and Doc bringing him outside one night, to the forest (or how many acres were left of it, after all of the construction for new buildings done in the surrounding area). The scientist had a telescope in his arms, mindful not to drop the expensive object, while Marty carried the stand behind him. When they had arrived to the darkest part of the remaining forest, Doc had set up the telescope, before teaching Marty every single constellation. Usually, that type of information shoved into him all at once, would go out the other ear, but that time it hadn't. Doc had told him that observing at the heavens above was one of his favorite actives, besides reading, he had done as a child himself. Marty had confessed that he liked anything related to outer space, but hadn't told his friends. He was afraid they would call him a "nerd", if he ever did. Doc had told him, in that moment, he would never make fun of him for anything and Marty had realized that night, that the older man considered him a friend. He shook the fond memories away, before continuing on inside. "Doc?"

He could hear distant mumbling from deeper inside and he squinted into the poor lighting. Marty observed the hunched over form of 1955 Doc, bent over a desk, which was disorganized with dissembled electronics. The 17-year-old peered over his shoulder, at the faded calculations being erased and the frustrated face the elder man in presented. "Uh, Doc?"

Doc didn't reply to his voice, scribbling out equations that Marty vaguely recognized. Though it had been nearly a week, he wasn't used to Doc not responding to the nickname he had presented him with. He had referred to him as "Doctor Brown" a few times now and the name felt unnatural to his tongue. It seemed to be what he responded to though in this time and Doc was usually startled when he realized Marty was there. He supposed he would be, too, if he typically lived alone and didn't speak to anyone much. "Doctor Brown?"

The elder man frowned, glancing up at the face leaning over his shoulder. When he cringed and nearly fell from his seat, Marty stepped back. Doc steadied himself within seconds, hand placed over his pounding heart. "Great Scott, Marty, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Yeah, I know, sorry about that. Uh, I just wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, are you hungry? Is it late? I'm sorry, I was working on the calculations for the Flux Ca-"

"Actually, that's one of things I sorta wanna talk about with you." Marty explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

"The Flux Capacitor?"

"Yeah...well...uh, you said I could help you with it, but, uh, you haven't asked me anything about it all week?"

"Well, Marty, I've actually though it through, and I decided perhaps...I could perhaps do this myself...I'm not sure if...you would quite understand all of this an-"

"You're shitting me," Marty groaned, beginning to understand exactly the train of thought Doc had in mind. "You think I'm too stupid to get this."

"Now, I never said that, I ju-" He immediately protested, waving his hands at the teenager.

"No, I get it. You really think I'm stupid." He felt offended by what the past version of Doc believed. His Doc, 1985 Doc, had never once had believed he was incapable of understanding such matters. Marty may of not understand the meaning behind most phrases Doc had told him, but he understand the gist of of what he had been told.

Doc appeared remorseful for his words and was reaching out for the brunet "Marty, please, I d-"

"I'm just gonna go to bed, ok? I'm sorta tired from being around my par-I mean, George and Lorraine, and I just wanna go to sleep," He backed uo, before Doc could make contact, already heading out of the garage. He paused by the doorway, turning around to stricken elder man. "I don't want you to wake me up, if I have nightmares tonight."

 _~BTTF~_

 _"I almost forgot my luggage," Doc mumbled aloud, shaking his head, as he approached the time machine. The frigid October air nipped at their exposed faces, though he had grown accustomed to it, having dealt with the temperatures for years now. Marty blinked multiple times, feeling quite drowsy, as it was in the early morning hours. "Who knows if they have cotton underwear in the future. I'm allergic to all synthetics."_

 _As he opened the lid to the front of the DeLorean, storing his suitcase inside, Marty frowned, feeling a sense of deja-vu consume him, though he attempted to ignore that powerful emotion. He was distracted though, when the dots connected in his head, the babbling of Doc making sense to his muddled mind. "The future. That's where you're going."  
_

 _"That's right! 25 years into the future! I've always dreamed of seeing the future, looking behind my years...seeing the progress of mankind!" He exclaimed animatedly, wisps of his white hair, fluttering in the wind._

 _Marty felt his lips tug upwards, the excitement Doc presented, affecting him. He was moved aside, the hand placed on Marty's arm causing his deja-vu to to return, and Doc hurried to the door of the vehicle. "Why not?"_

 _"I'll also be able to see who wins the next twenty-five World Series."_

 _"Uh, Doc..." He caught the scientist's attention, as he glanced up from the pens he was adjusting his pocket, preparing to be filmed by the 17-year-old._

 _"Huh?" Marty observed his unruly hair, obviously unbrushed today, the wrinkles on his face prominent from where he was. The white hazmat suit matched his hair, the collar his Hawaiian button-up peeping out. His gloves, with the toxic warning signs, where a bright color that distracted from the rest of the scientist. Those details weren't what Marty was studying though. He was staring into the elder man's eyes, the chocolate ones, full of a type of youth, despite what he age was. Marty felt nearly as though he wouldn't see him for a very long time, even though his trip to the future wouldn't be long. He wanted to tell Doc to look up the future version of himself, yet the words wouldn't come out. "Marty?"_

 _The 17-year-old licked his lips, whispering hoarsely. "I'm gonna miss you, Doc."_

 _The scientist appeared surprised, before releasing a snort of amusement. "Marty, I'm only going to be gone a few hours at most. Well, it will be a minute for you, so it's even less time than you believe it to be."_

 _"Yeah, I know, but...but..."_

 _"Marty, everything is going to be fine," Doc reassured and despite the words of comfort, Marty felt as though he was wrong. "Are you ready to roll?"_

 _The brunet frowned at his unnecessary anxiety about this situation, before nodding. He lifted the camcorder towards the elder man and pressed the record button. Doc opened the door of the DeLorean and cleared his throat. He adjusted the collar of his hazmat suit, staring into the lens of the camera, though it felt as though he was staring at Marty. "I, Dr. Emmett Brown, am about to embark on an historic journey..."_

 _Doc chuckled, gesturing off the camera to the right. "Ha, what am I thinking of? I almost forgot to bring extra plutonium. How do I expect to get back? One pellet, one trip! I must be out of my mind!"_

 _Marty heard Einstein bark from inside the van beside them and Doc glanced over at where he was located. Marty felt a sense of dread wash over him, and he paled at the the emotions engulfing him. Unaware, the camcorder's frame shook, due to his trembling hands. He remained in place though, continuing to record. "What is it,_ _Einie?"_

 _Doc glanced over at Marty-no, beyond him, squinting his eyes. He frowned, stepping closer to the camera, as he observed what Marty couldn't see behind him. His heart drummed in his chest, the camcorder clearly quaking in his hands. The brunet didn't know how he knew, but he knew that what Doc was viewing, spelt out the end. The end of what? He couldn't answer that quite yet. "Oh my god...They found me...I don't know how, but they found me."_

 _Marty dropped the device, hands coming up to cover his mouth. He knew, he knew who was there, and what was going to occur that night. He didn't know how, but he simply did know this to be true. Doc barely noticed, before crying out to him, and sprinting away. "Run for it, Marty!"_

 _Doc abruptly noticed that Marty was staring at his hands, instead of sprinting after him. The engine of the van roared, as it approached the pair, though Marty couldn't focus on the noise surrounding him. Doc whirled around, reached out for him, and grasped tightly onto his forearm. "We need to go! The Libyans, they're g-"_

 _He choked out his word, realizing what was occurring. "H-Holy shit...h-holy shit...I'm d-dreaming...I'm not awake..."_

 _"Marty! Please, we need to-" They both cringed violently, as gunshots were drilled at them, Doc shoving Marty to the ground, as they flew into the van. Marty groaned, glancing up from the asphalt, at the horrified elder man. "I'll draw their fire!"_

 _Doc dived towards a tool box, desperately digging for a weapon, as more rounds were drilled off. He hoped up, shotgun in hand, aiming it at the swerving van, heading their way. He pressed the trigger, frowning as not a single bullet was ejected. He attempted another time, shaking the weapon, before staring down the barrel. Marty supposed at that moment, he realized the shotgun wasn't loaded. The scientist gasped in horror, before dodging more bullets drilled at him. "Doc, wait!"_

 _The van approached, coming to a halt, as Doc attempted to make a run for it. He froze in place, raising his hands, as the Libyan terrorist seethed at him. He tossed the gun away, in what appeared to be the hope that they would understand his surrender. Marty's eyes widened and he remembered what was going to happen within the next second. "DOC, RUN!"_

 _The scientist's head swiveled around to him, as the round of bullets were pelted into his chest, by the terrorists. He stumbled back from the force and his eyes widened at the sight. Marty screamed, despite the knowledge that Doc was going to prevent his own death with a bullet-proof vest later, he released an agonizing scream. His throat burned, the only thought consuming him, was his best friend being murdered. He didn't even curse, as he did the first time, it was simply a wail. The gun was turned on him, before he could even go to stand, and the bullets were pelted into him. He continued to scream, as he landed on his back, blood pooling into his lungs. He screams turned into chokes and gags, gurgling as blood boiled out of his mouth, as bleed out, as he di-_

"Marty! Marty!" He was frantically shaken awake from his nightmare and he thrashed against the arms wrapped around his frame. He screamed into the darkness, fighting against who held him captive. He pounded his fists as hard as possible against the individual, hearing a series of pained grunts in reply, the arms tightening. "Marty, please, it's _me_!"

He ceased his movement, upon realization of who it was. He laid his head against the scientist's chest, the elder man sitting behind him. He felt the nose of the dog nudge his thigh, whining and Marty squeezed his eyes shut. Einstein laid his upon the brunet's thigh and his entire body lost the tense feeling he had endured, going limp. "...I-I'm sorry, Doc...I just had this dream...a-and...I-I'm just glad you're here though...you and Einstein..."

"Oh...Marty, uh, I'm afraid...I'm afraid that's Copernicus and that you're still stuck in 1955," He felt the vibrations from the frame behind him, as the voice explained to him. His eyes shot open, body tensing, and he jolted up from the chest he was laid upon. He shoved the younger version of Doc away, Copernicus releasing a yelp, as Marty accidentally kicked the animal, in his haste to distant himself. There was a pause of silence, as Marty panted. He felt the elder man shift on his bed, though he couldn't view him in the darkness of the room. Marty brought his knees up to his chest. "Coper, boy, are you alright?"

The teenager felt horrible, unaware of how hard he had kicked the dog. He hadn't meant to, he was simply frightened of how he had revealed his trust, to the younger Doc, despite barely knowing him. He wouldn't mind being that close to his Doc, as they had fallen asleep on top of one another in the future, on several occasions, but this Doc, he didn't feel as though he could trust him in the same manner. He heard a whine from Copernicus and flinched, when the dog laid his head, upon Marty's foot. Copernicus wasn't Einstein, he never could replace him. His lip wobbled, feeling as the future dog was there though, and he reached out, stroking the fur. The bed shifted, as the weight of Doc left. "Marty, I'm going to turn on the light, alright?"

He didn't reply, squeezing his eyes shut, kneading his hands into Copernicus. The light was flipped on a moment later, though it appeared dulled from behind his eyelids. He didn't want to open his eyes, open them, and realize he wasn't petting Einstein, and that Doc wasn't older. His hands were trembling, trembling as though he were in his dream, again, realizing he was _in_ a dream. He felt a hand rest upon his shoulder, rubbing the material of his shirt, against his skin. "Marty, are you alright?"

Marty opened his eyes, observing the blond, beside the bed. "...y-you're not old."

"No, I'm not quite there yet. I haven't even reached middle age status," Doc informed the teenager, eyes darting over to the trembling hand, clinging onto the fur of his dog. "May you release Copernicus, Marty? I afraid you might be grasping his fur too tight."

Marty released, feeling tears burn in his eyes, as he buried his face into his knees. "I-I'm sorry, Doc..."

"No, Marty, I should be apologizing," He glanced up from his knees, as Doc settled himself, at the end of the bed. "I should of know by now, not to hold you down, when you wake up from a nightmare. You always fight against me, when I do."

He gulped thickly. "I-I told you not to wake me up..."

"I recall, but, your screaming was loud enough tonight, that I could hear it from the garage. There's already those nasty rumors circulating about me torturing animals, and I wouldn't want to add humans to that list as well."

"...they still say that in the future anyways..." Marty mumbled to himself.

"What was that?"

He sighed. "Nothing...just future stuff..."

Doc bit his lip. "Marty, there's more I need to apologize for...I...I made an error earlier in the night..when I said that you wouldn't quite understand what I was doing...My error was that, I though it would be a better excuse, than the truth."

He sniffled. "The truth?"

"I didn't want to truly tell you how concerned I am...I thought that making you understand that you'll be stuck here for a few years, would be enough. It seemed it hasn't been though. I haven't asked you, Marty, because I thought you shouldn't be troubled with anything at the moment. You're already suffering enough with your nightmares and the lack of sleep. And, you've lost quite a bit of weight, within a short period of time. I don't think I've seen a teenager eat as little as you do."

"I-I'm fine thou-"

"No, you're not Marty. You scared that you wouldn't get back, but I promise you, one way or another, you'll get back," He assured the brunet, yet Marty couldn't help but imagine what lengths he had gone to the first time he had attempted to create the DeLorean. He hadn't realizing the tears were rolling down his cheeks, until Doc's eyebrow's furrowed at the sight. "Marty?"

"I-I know you're going to use a bullet-proof vest, to save yourself, b-but I can't help but think that me missing with time, will make you die anyways...and I-I can't save you this time, b-because the t-time machine hasn't been built yet..."

"Now, I can't guarantee I won't die in a certain way, one of these days, but I know none of it will be your fault. You didn't have a hand with tricking the Libyan terrorists the first time, and you won't this time, because you're going to be back to 1985, before I get that point."

"Bu-"

Doc rested his hand upon Marty's knee. "I'm _not_ going to die, for a very long time, Marty."

Marty began to realize how paranoid he belief seemed to be. He couldn't imagine anything he would do, within the next 10 years, ending up with the elder man dead. He wiped at his moist eyes, bobbing his head up and down. Perhaps, he could trust past Doc more, than he had initially believed he could. "I-I'm sorry... I'm just...s-scared..."

"I know you are Marty, but we will get you back to your own time, I promise you that. And, we're going to sort out these nightmares, so you can finally get the rest you need. I'm also going to do what I should of done earlier in the week; start to monitor your eating habits, so you actually get back to your original weight. You were slim to start off with and losing that weight didn't help you in the least."

"Ah, Doc, come on! I'm not a baby!" He immediately protested, feeling as though the scientist was treating as if he hadn't reached near adulthood.

"Marty you've lost somewhere from 8-10 pounds and can't afford to lose much else. If you do, I'm going to have to take you to a hospital."

The 17-year paled at these words. "What? No, I can't go to a hospital!"

"Then, you're going to let me do this then."

"That makes me feel like I'm two though an-"

"Marty, you don't seem to understand how worrisome it is to lose that amount of weight, in the course of six days!" Doc exclaimed, squeezing Marty's knee, the material of the pajama pants sliding across his skin underneath.

"I know it's bad, bu-"

"If you don't gain at least three pounds back this weekend, I'm not letting you go to high school with your parents on Monday."

"No! I can't just sit around you and do nothing! And, you're the one that suggested it!"

"I know I did, but your health is far more important than this and I don't think I could forgive myself in the future, if I realized that I let you continue to eat practically nothing!"

He felt guilty, as he realized how concerned the older man was for him. He sighed, apologizing for how irrational he sounded. "...I'm sorry, Doc...I'm just not really hungry a lot nowadays and I forget to eat...I keep thinking about...future Doc stuck in 1885..."

"I understand you're worried about my future counterpart, but you must take care of yourself."

"I know, I know...I'll...I'll try..."

His hand slid off his knee and he bit his lip anxiously. "Now that we have all that sorted out, there's another topic I would like to address...about the paperwork...I obviously changed your year of birth and family history, but...well, the last name you wanted me to change it to, I don't think i-"

"Doc, I already told you. Calvin Klein is going to be someone famous in a couple of years and everyone is going to think it's weird that I have the same name as the guy. I'm changing it to Brown, ok. It makes sense and...well, uh..." He trailed off awkwardly, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. He finally decided to simply blurt out the rest. "You-future you-was there more than my own Dad was, so he's almost like...my, uh..."

The scientist stared at him for a few moments, heat beginning to creep up his neck, causing Marty to release an awkward laugh. Doc spluttered out his reply to the teenager. "Well, I-I'm flattered...um...and, well...I-I...t-thank y-you, Marty..."

Marty remembered, around when he had been 15, he had gone over to Doc's house one day, during Spring Break. He had gone to him, having accidentally left his skateboard in the driveway and his mother running it over when she had arrived home, to fix the broken board. While the scientist had been fixing the body, he had went to play fetch with Einstein, in the patch of grass beside the garage. By the time they had come inside, he was working on the wheels. he hadn't even glanced up, when he had asked Marty for the screwdriver, and had added "son" to the end. Doc had blushed when he realized his wording and Marty had told him immediately after, that he was going home. He had gone home that night and smiled to himself, feeling as though his dad hadn't been there the same way Doc had been through the few years they had know one another. Neither of them mentioned the incident ever again, but Marty would always remember that moment. "Uh, anyways, can we get started on the Flux Capacitor or...?"

"Marty, it's nearly midnight," Doc replied, raising his eyebrow. "I'm going to bed and you should try sleeping, too. You need it even more than I do."

"But, Doc, you know I won't be able to sleep anymore! It's the same damn thing every night!"

"Well, you can certainly try...perhaps our conversation has alleviate some of your anxiety you're experiencing."

Marty thought of the comforting words he had been given by his friend. Doc wouldn't die, because of him messing with time. They were going to rebuild the time machine together. Marty would be home, within a few years. He would see his parents grown up. He would see Linda and Dave. He would see his girlfriend, Jennifer Parker. He and The Pinheads will become famous musicians. He would see Einstein. He will rescue Doc from the Old West. He had the whole future ahead of him. His lips tugged up into a smile. "I think maybe it did."

 _~November 21st, 1955~_

By the time Monday had arrived, Marty had gained five pounds, after losing the eleven he had lost from his lacking of eating. Doc had made him consume so much over the weekend, that he felt would burst several times. He used to be a huge eater, back in 1985, but in 1955, he had a difficult time consuming large amount. The breakfast was lessened to a lower, much less burdensome amount, on Monday and he was thankful. His sleep had improved much though, as he appeared and felt as exhausted as ever. He no longer screamed when he woke from nightmares, but they had reduced. He had though Doc's words would lessen the dreams, yet he continued to dream, disappearing, Biff shooting him, and Doc dying, being the worse. He didn't inform Doc how bad they continued to be, but he had begun to explain his ideas about the Flux Capacitor.

When he arrived at Hill Valley High School, he located the parking space, closest to the entrance, taking a deep breath. His tan pleated pants were strung up on the highest notch on the belt, his weight still quite low for his height and age. He hadn't realized how much weight he had lost, until he had begun to regain, but he was glad that it hadn't been that noticeable. His white button-up featured a repetitive pattern of multi-colored cartoon cactuses, clad in a black jacket, the lapels white. He had always been attracted to the zany patterned shirts of this time period and was surprised Doc hadn't adopted the same type of attraction, considering his love for Hawaiian button-ups to be unnatural in the future. He unbuckled his seat belt, as he pondered this, snatched up his pile of school textbooks. He wondered why high schoolers in the 50's didn't have backpacks, as the elementary school children did, though he supposed it was the fashion. As he exited the car, he immediately heard a familiar voice shout out to him. "Calvin!"

Marty whirled around, observing his mother, and her friend reach him. He couldn't quite remember the friend's name, though he was sure it began with the letter B. He grinned at the the youthful face of his mother, as he slammed the door of the vehicle shut. "Hey, Lorraine."

"I'm sorry I didn't come over with George. I couldn't convince him to come. He is soooo stubborn sometimes." She rolled her eyes at the end.

"Yeah, he can be like that. Where is he anyways?" He asked, scanning the surrounding area for his father.

"Oh, he's probably already inside. He always comes so early, so I never walk to school with him," The brunette explained. Beside her, the dark haired friend cleared her throat. Lorraine reached out to the other, hand resting on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce you two. Babs, this is Calvin Kl-Brown. Calvin, this Barbra Freeman."

He extended his hand and she grasped it warily, as they shook. "Nice to meet you, Barbra."

"Just call me Babs. I hate Barbra." She curtly replied.

Marty raised an eyebrow at her insensitive behavior. "Alright, I can do that."

"Lorri, I have to go. I wanted to talk to Mr. Leonard about that grade he gave me on the test last week." Barbra informed her friend, lips curled into a pout, as she stared Marty down.

"Ok, see you in 5th hour, Babs!" Lorraine replied, before her friend began to head towards the entrance of the school. When she was out of earshot, Marty gave his mother a questioning look. "Calvin?"

"I'm sorta getting the impression that she doesn't like me much."

"Oh, don't take any offense, Calvin. She acts the same way with George."

Obviously, he mother didn't understand the meaning behind the actions of her friend. He decided not to mention that that meant Barbra didn't approve of George being Lorraine's boyfriend. As they began their journey to the high school, the pair passed by Biff Tannen's 1946 Ford Super De Luxe and was distracted from Lorraine's story about her father running someone over with his car, again. He felt a sense of dread wash over him, at the sight, before they entered the lawn of the school. He hoped he wouldn't catch a glimpse of the bully, afraid of what he would feel. "-nd he had to blame to poor boy for running in front of it!"

They went up the steps, entering the crowded hallway, full of high school students. Marty approached his locker, Lorraine beside him, asking him how his weekend was. He unlocked the locker and shoved in his school books, deciding not to mention his nightmares or weight issues. "Oh, it was fine. Doc is working on something new and I was helping, so I got pretty confused, but I think I'm starting to understand."

"Oh, what's he working o-George!" Lorraine released a squeal of delight at the end, causing the brunet to cringe at her high pitched voice. He slammed his locker shut, turning around, as Lorraine wrapped her arms around the neck of George McFly, behind Marty. As they began to kiss one another, Marty awkwardly stood to the side, feeling as though he was intruding on his parents intimate moment. The sound of the bell ringing broke them apart and Marty was quite thankful they were finished making out. She stepped away breathing deeply. "I'll see you in 2nd hour, George."

George's face was a shade of deep red, as students walking to their classes, stared at the trio. "Uh, yeah, in 2nd hour..."

She beamed at him, before turning to Marty, the scent of lavender perfume reaching his nose. "Bye Marty, see you in 2nd."

"Bye." He lifted his hand in a wave, observing the dazed expression his father displayed, as she sprinted down the hallway and disappearing around the corner. "George? You ok, buddy?"

"She's the most beautiful gal around..." He sighed dreamily after her, as the 17-year-old rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, yo-"

"KLEIN!" Marty paled dramatically at the roar he heard from behind, heart thumping in his chest, as he whirled around. Biff Tannen was in the middle of the hallway, pointing at him, shoulders heaving from his fuming anger. The remaining students occupying the area, scurried away immediately, as he began to rapidly approach Marty. It was completely irrational to be afraid of the teenager, but he couldn't help but think of when he was on the roof in the alternate 1985, before he knew Doc was there, having a gun aimed at him. "YOU'RE DEAD MEAT!"

George gripped his shoulder, immediately out of his daze upon hearing the voice of Biff, hissing into his ear nervously. "Marty, I know I've already stood up to Biff, but I don't think I should try again when he's this mad."

Marty opened his mouth, mouthing his words in terrified silence, as Biff menacingly approached them, feet stomping across the title below his feet. The grip on his shoulder tightened, the skin of the bully being seen to be beat red of his fury. He trembled beneath the hand, the images of nightmares appearing before his eyes. He's falling off the roof, as being shot, his lungs full of lead and blood, gurgling, as it spilled down his lips. Doc his screaming for him, watching in horror from the DeLorean, as he flies to his dea-"Marty!"

He pitched forward, throwing up, onto Biff's shoes. George's nails dug into his shoulder, the feet before him frozen in place. He glanced up, at the figure heaving above him. His eyes are darkened with a deeper anger, than he had had before, and the brunet was reminded of the alternate adult Biff. He stumbled backwards, causing George to collide with the lockers behind him. "I'M GONNA MURDER Y-"

"Is there something going on here, boys?" Marty breathed out a sigh of relief, wiping away the dribble on his chin, as Principal Strickland approached the trio. His eyes narrowed at the throw up on the shoes and the floor surrounding the area. He glanced briefly at Marty, who had a tense George clinging to his back, pressed against the lockers. "And, is there a reason why you have vomit on your shoes, Tannen?"

"Klein threw up on me." Biff grumbled, his fists trembling from the barely contained rage.

Strickland raised an eyebrow, turning his attention to the other two. His face seemed to soften a degree, observing how Marty's hands trembled, the pallor of his skin, and how wide his eyes were. Marty wasn't aware of these details he presented, but he couldn't halt the fear that had consumed at the word "murder", that had been shouted into his face. "Are you sick, Brown?"

"Brown?" The bully muttered darkly.

"Tannen, I think you should go to class. Your teacher will be wondering where you've been." Biff glared hotheaded at the balding principal and Strickland's eyes narrowed further than before. " _Now._ "

He grumbled under his breath, the words "stupid school" and "throw up on my shoes" being heard among them, as he lumbered away from them. When he had disappeared into a classroom, Marty felt his queasy stomach begin to settle. The grip on his shoulder loosened, before falling away from him. His saliva felt thick in his mouth, the taste of throw settled onto his tongue. He gulped, hoping to lessen the taste, no avail though. His hands continued to shake, as his anxiety faded away. "Are you sick, Brown?"

Marty shook his head at the principal, not trusting his voice to come out steady. "We can't be having sick students in the school, Brown. That will make other students sick and we can't have them missing their classes. I would suggest going to the nurse, so we can send you home, if you are actually sick."

"Uh..." The principal raised an eyebrow at George, as he began to address Strickland. "M-Marty...Calvin, just...g-got nervous and, uh...never mind..."

"Don't even have the guts to explain for yourself, huh, Brown?" Marty felt as though he couldn't handle the principal baiting him, as he usually did in 1985. He was honestly surprised that the balding man was as considerate he had been in those five minutes he had ceased the beginnings of a fight. It seemed as though, that all good things did not last. "I think you two should head to class, before I write you up."

Marty wanted to go home after that, though he didn't.

 _End Chapter 3_

 **Happy November everyone! I wanted to let you readers know, that since the rough draft of each chapter is already done, updates will be on each Wednesday. Don't be surprised though, if it doesn't happen, because I've forgotten to update some of my other stories on this website. Sometimes I finish off the chapter and then completely forget to add it onto this website. I'm sure this wouldn't happen too often, if it does occur at all. Notes for this chapter include the following; Babs is the brunette friend Lorraine had in the movies. If you want to see what she looks like, Google her. I made up her last name, from the last name of actress.  
**

 **Preview:**

"Marty, I assure you, that you're wrong about Buford Tannen."

"Bu-Wait, who?"

"Buford. Biff. He goes by Biff, but his full name is Buford."

"How do the hell do you know that, Doc?"

"...When I'm walking by or riding my bike to the grocery store, I can hear his grandmother yelling at him."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4  
_

 **Disclaimer:** ** **Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale own** Back to the Future, not me.**

 _~November 21st, 1955~_

By the time he entered second period, after struggling to focus in English (though the writing prompts were easier than the ones given in 1985), Marty had begun to realize his stomach no longer churned. His anxiety associated with the encounter with Biff had faded away and he looked forward to being in the same class as both of his parents. When he entered Pre-Calculus, a minute or two before the bell rung, he approached the teacher. Her dark eyes glanced up from the papers she was grading, smiling generously. "Why, you must be the new student, Calvin."

"I prefer going by Marty." He responded immediately, already appreciating this teacher, more than his first hour one. The first teacher had simply stared at Marty, when he had voiced his preference, and continued to call him Calvin. When he introduced him to the class with a monotone voice, before making him sit down, Marty had realized the teachers here would be as dull as they were in the future. The most entertaining aspect of that class, had been the students pointing at him, and the whispering about him causing a scene at homecoming two weekends ago. In this class though, he had realized the teacher would be better, though the rowdy students were going to continue to point at him, as they had in first hour.

"Of course, Marty. Now, for your seat..." She stared down at her her roster, before pointing behind him. "It seems the only seat open is beside George...he's the one tha-"

"Yeah, I know him. We're friends."

She beamed at him. "That's good you're already making friends at this school. Now, why don't you go sit down, so we can begin class?"

"Thanks!" He headed over to his father, the only empty seat beside him, pausing to observe his writings. He read only a line or two, realizing it was one of his science-fiction stories. He grinned, settling himself into the seat, realizing this could of well been the rough draft of the story he would become famous for in the new 1985. The pencil ceased movement, the individual writing the story abruptly noticing someone was staring at him. He glanced up, Marty's face in his vision, and he blushed deeply. George shoved the papers into his binder, blushing deeper as Marty laughed. "You're never going to let me read those, are you?"

"No, I-maybe-I-you...ugh..." He buried his face into his hands. "Leave me alone, Marty!"

"Hey, I just wanna read it. It's probably really good!"

"No, it's stupid...no one could possibly like it..."

"George, you can't know that, until you let someone actually read it."

He raised his face from his hands, facing morphing into concern. "That's not really important...Marty, are you alright now?"

Marty knew automatically, that he was avoiding the conversation, though he was honestly concerned for how Marty had been when they had encountered Biff Tannen in the hallway. He rolled his eyes, attempting to dissuade the severity of his reaction, though he knew that with the nightmares, the weight loss, and now the physical reaction to his fear were troubling signs. "I'm fine, George. Just got sorta nervous, you know? He seemed pretty pissed."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, George." As Marty finished assuring his future father, the pair's attention were directed to the teacher, as she begun to speak to the students.

"Good morning class! I hope you all had a good weekend. Today, we have a new student." She waved in Marty's general direction, causing the few students that hadn't noticed him, to stare. "Why don't you stand up and introduce yourself, Marty?"

He stood from his seat, all eyes on him, including his mother beaming at him, two rows to the right. "Hey, I'm Calvin Brown, though I like being called Marty...uh, I've lived in Hill Valley my whole life, but was homeschooled by my uncle, Doctor Emmett Brown, until now. Nice to meet you all."

The teacher's smile flattered for the first time since he entered the classroom, paling at the name. The stares became nervous, the students glancing at one another, at the mention of the doctor, as he sat back down. The 17-year-old realized perhaps spilling about his guardian being Doc, wasn't the best choice in hindsight, though it was much too late to retract his introduction. Her smile returned, though seemed false to him, as nodded at the students. "Yes, well, let's start class, shall we?"

 _~BTTF~_

When he entered third hour, the history class hardly noticed him as he observed the crowded room. The teacher seemed to be missing, so he headed to an open seat on his own, near the back corner. Marty dodged a handful of paper airplanes, and weaved through the students in-between desks, chattering vigorously with one another. He was startled, when a student, in the seat in front of his, pointed at his face, shouting vehemently. "It's _you_!"

"Yeah, it's me...uh, do I know you?" He observed the brunet pomade hairstyle, the muted freckles scattered across his cheeks, and the hooked nose. His charcoal tweed jacket was unbuttoned, revealing his plaid patterned button-up underneath, chestnut colored slacks belted around his waist. Marty frowned, before realizing he seemed familiar, as he was the one there when he had stolen the sports almanac from Biff, in his second trip to 1955. He had thought Marty had stolen his wallet, calling after him as he ran off on homecoming night. "Wait, you're that one guy, that was yelling at me."

"Yeah, you stole that guy's wallet!" He accused with a scowl, as Marty settled himself into the seat.

"No, I was taking back my sports almanac he stole from me." He honestly replied.

"Ah-ha, so you admit t-Wait, your sports almanac?"

"Yeah, he swiped it from me, earlier in the night, before he tried hurting my friend." He partially lied.

The other rubbed the back of his neck, appearing sheepish at his shouting. "Uh, sorry about accusing you like that...wait, is that why George McFly punched him?"

"Yeah, he was going to _touch_ Lo-" He spat out, though he cut himself off, feeling stressed about the realization that his mother had nearly been groped inappropriately or worse by the bully. He felt his stomach tense, at the thought of Biff Tannen, gulping to reduce the nausea that had set in. He couldn't let his fear overtake him like that. It was nearly as bad as his reaction to being called a "chicken". "...he punched him to save her."

"Well, I'm glad she's alright...I heard they got together. That true?"

The time traveler grinned, the tense feeling fading away. "Yeah, and they're pretty cute together."

He laughed at Marty's words. "That's good...I'm Lester. Lester Mann."

Marty took his extended hand, shaking it vigorously. "Calvin Brown. Though, I prefer going by Marty."

"Marty? How did you get a nickname like that?"

"Martin is my middle name and my parents started calling me that when I was little." The 17-year-old seemed to be weaving realty with fantasy, with ease, beginning to find the lies rolling off his tongue with ease now.

"Oh, I see...so, did you just move here with your parents, or...?"

"No, I've lived in Hill Valley my whole life, but I was homeschooled until now. And, I actually live with my uncle right now."

"Why's that?"

"Uh...my parents died when I was little and my uncle adopted me, because he was my only living relative."

"Oh, I'm sorry about asking you something personal like tha-" Lester began, appearing horrified by the lie Marty had revealed.

"No, no, it's fine. It happened when I was really little, so I don't really remember them much." He stated, with a shrug to his new acquaintance.

"Still, I'm sorry for bringing that up."

"Seriously, it's fine. Ju-"

"Everyone, calm down! Class is beginning, so find your seats!" The teacher called out, as he entered the room. The 17-year-old was grateful for the entrance, beginning to grow exhausted of pretending his parents were dead and explaining this lie to another person he met. He was also curious about how he would be taught in this class, since the time period was significantly different from his own and as 1985 was further ahead in the timeline, compared to 1955. Marty supposed he would have to see.

 _~BTTF~_

After going through fourth period (physical education), which he found a thousand times easier than it was in 1985, he ended up in Chemistry. He entered the classroom, the chatter reduced to whispers, with the teacher flipping through a copy of "The Lord of the Rings". He headed to the back, to a empty table in the back, settling himself onto one of the lab stools. He laid out his textbook, picking up his pencil, and twirling it through his fingers, as he waited for class to begin. Marty's eyes shifted to the doorway, as a group of students filed in. His pencil ceased twirling, blood running cold at the sight. Biff and his gang of friends were entering, each heading off to the their own tables. His heart began to hammer in his chest, as Biff approached his table. The bully was nearly to the table, before noticing Marty there. He released a snarl, beside Marty in a heart beat. He reached out, snatching Marty's collar, nearly causing him to fall from the chair. He leaned in, hissing low so the teacher wouldn't look up from the book to investigate the noise. "What the _hell_ are you doing in my seat, Brown?"

He reached out, hands pushing at the beefy hands clinging to him. Those beefy hands held a gun, aimed at him, visibly shaking with his barely contained fury, the cold-hearted smirk that spread across his lips, as he revealed he had murdered George McFly. Marty couldn't form words, as these memories came to mind, reminding him of the dangers he had experienced. "I-I-uh-"

"If you don't get out of my seat, in two seconds, I'm gonna clobber you," He threatened, abruptly releasing his collar. He nearly toppled over, grasping onto the table edge, as the lab stool released a series of clatters. The teacher glanced up with a frown, eyes narrowing at the scene in the back of the room. Biff's fists shook, as he glared hatefully at the frozen 17-year-old. "Now, Brown!"

"What's going on back there?" The teacher called out, beginning to set down his book, as he observed the scene.

"Nothing, Mr. Jones, expect that the new student is in my seat." Biff spat back, barely controlling himself.

"Calvin, is it? That actually _is_ Biff's seat, though you can take the unoccupied one to the left."

Marty hastily nodded, scrambling from the stool, to the next one over, as the teacher returned to reading. When Biff sat beside him, his stomach begun to churn and flutter with anxiousness. Biff leaned over to him, whispering fiercely into his ear his threats. "You should be lucky I don't knock your lights out, after the stunt you pulled this morning, Klein. Or, should I say Brown? You're related to that freaky doctor, huh? The one that kills dogs and experiments on them."

He felt a swell of anger within, his anxiety partially melting away. "You don't know anything, Biff."

"Oh, really? I think I know a lot. Like how he murdered his parents, by making a torture device to cut off their heads. Or, how he likes to eat the dogs, after he's finished playing around with their remains."

"You're a sick piece of shit, you know that?"

Biff scowled at him. "What'd you call me, butthead?"

"A sick piece of shit."

"I'm warning you, Brown, if you don't shut your mouth, I'm gon-"

"Ok everyone, we're starting class now To start off, we have a new student, Calvin Brown," Marty set his face into a emotionless one, while Biff squeezed his hands into fists underneath the table. Everyone turned to look at the back of the classroom, a few student's eyes widening at the sight of a trembling Biff beside him. "Calvin, you came at a good time. We're starting some new concepts today, so you can have a fresh start on this."

When the attention drifted off, as the teacher began to write across the chalkboard, the fierce whispers reappeared in his ear. "I don't know who you think you are, butthead, but I'm gonna get you back for all that bullshit you put me through."

"I'll like to see you try, Biff," He heatedly spat back, realizing his choice of words were going to cost him. As Biff presented him with another scowl, he grasped onto his pencil, snapping it in half. His pallor became whitewashed, observing how his fingers had barely moved an inch to do so. Marty lost the heat he had felt, beginning to stutter out anything to abate the bully. "Uh, ha, I-I-"

"You're gonna break easier than this pencil did, Brown." He hissed out, not even glowering at him anymore, as the teacher's eyes narrowed at the pair of them in the back. When neither of them spoke another word, or moved, the teacher went back to writing formulas across the board. When the bell finally rang, Marty couldn't get out of Chemistry and to Doc's Packard fast enough, to diminish his churning stomach. When he reached the vehicle, he swung open the door, lurching forward. He threw up, hidden by the door, before hurrying inside the Packard. The teenager sped away, the image of a shotgun haunting him.

 _~BTTF~_

When he arrived back at the Von Braun mansion, he had calmed himself enough, not to concern Doc with his behavior. He locked the vehicle, whistling the tune of "Panama" by Van Halen to himself, waltzing through the doorway. He could hear the distant noises of the television set, as he approached the living room, peeking into the room. Doc was muttering to himself, as he read through a textbook labeled "The Interior of Motor Vehicles", copying portions of the text onto a pile of papers stacked on his left thigh. "I'm back, Doc."

The elder man jolted, his pencil jerking across the paper. He scowled at the mistake, erasing it, as he glanced up at his friend. "So you are...Marty, could I speak to you right now?"

Marty entered the living room, plopping down onto the couch across from him, kicking up his feet onto the armrest. He crossed his arms over his chest, as he grinned at the scientist. "You need help with some of that, Doc, or are you gonna get annoyed with me, again, just because I noticed the mistake _you_ made last time?"

"Not quite...Marty, earlier today, I got a phone call from the high school." Doc shoved his pen into the textbook, closing it.

He groaned at the words. "Ugh, Doc, whatever bullcrap Strickland fed you about with about me starting a 'fight', th-"

"No, no, he didn't inform me of any fight. Though he told me I shouldn't send you to school when you're sick, as you would spread your sickness to the other students. He conveyed to me that you vomited onto another student and then denied that you weren't sick, when he asked. Now, Marty, you should of told me you weren't feeling well. It might have to do with you beginning to eat mor-"

"Ah, Doc, seriously? I'm fine. I'm not sick and it doesn't have to do with you making me eat more. Biff just showed up and was bugging me and George and I accidentally messed up his shoes."

Doc appeared bewildered by the statement. "Vomiting onto a Tannen is an accident?"

"Well, yeah. He deserved it though; he's an asshole."

"Now, I do agree on that sentiment, but from what I understand about the world, usually the one to raise the 'asshole', is an 'asshole themselves."

"I don't know, Doc. Pretty sure the whole asshole thing started with him. His daughter comes every year to sell us Girl Scout cookies and sh-"

Doc pinched the bridge of his nose. "Marty, what did I say about telling me the future?"

"Ah, come on. This isn't that life alternating."

"Nonetheless, I prefer not to find out anything more related to someone we know in the future."

Marty rolled his eyes. "Fine, but my point is that he's a complete asshole, and it all started with him."

"Marty, I assure you, that you're wrong about Buford Tannen."

"Bu-Wait, who?"

"Buford. Biff. He goes by Biff, but his full name is Buford."

"How do the hell do you know that, Doc?"

"...When I'm walking by or riding my bike to the grocery store, I can hear his grandmother yelling at him."

"Is that the person that's always yelling?"

"Yes, that would be Gertrude Tannen."

"Why the hell does he live with his grandmother?"

"Well, from what I recall, his mother passed from a series of complications, while giving birth to him. I didn't speak to her much, though she would greet me, if we ran into one another."

"Oh, well, just because his mom died, doesn't give him any excuse to me an asshole. What about his dad?"

"I don't remember much about his father, aside from his name calling and empty threats aimed at myself. I think the 'asshole' genes may of stemmed from him and not quite Biff."

"You know what happened to him? He kick the can, too?"

"No...I...I believe he simply up and left. He hasn't been around for...I want to say at least ten years. That's not the point though Marty; are you sure you're alright?"

The brunet released a sigh, biting his lip, realizing Doc knew how much he's been suffering, since being in 1955 for the third time. "...it...it's my nightmares..."

"If you want to finally talk about the-"

He rolled over, burying his face into the cushions of the couch, as he muttered wearily. "It has stuff related to the future, stuff that could alter the future, you know?"

"You could perhaps leave out the details an-"

"Doc, I don't wanna...just...just work on the Flux Capacitor, ok?"

"We're going to have to eventually talk about your nightmares, Marty. You can't keep them inside forever." He could try though.

 _End Chapter 4_

 **I promised that updates would be on Wednesdays, but I have an appropriate excuse for why I didn't yesterday. I had been working on this huge essay for one of my classes, that was due earlier today. I finished it though, so I found time to finally write this out tonight. Hopefully I can actually update on Wednesday, as I promise to do so. Anyways, notes I have for this chapter, include the following; I figured that even that most of the adults would be wary of Doc and that would stem from perhaps rumors they had heard about him or even from personal experience in some cases. They may of found his behavior, when he was in high school and younger, to be bizarre at times. The student I introduced is from the scene in BTTF2, when Marty stole back the sports almanac, after George punched Biff. You know, the one that said, "I think he took his wallet". His name wasn't stated in the movie, so I Googled it. The novel stated his name was Lester, so I went with that. I remember reading somewhere, that one of Marty's favorite bands is Van Halen and since "Panama" came out in 1984 I decided to use that song. Plus, the tune is really catchy to listen to. Gertrude Tannen is the canon name of Biff's grandmother, I also had to Google that one.**

 **Preview:**

"What the hell was that about?" Marty wondered aloud, staring at the door that been slammed in his face. He frowned, the image of Biff's face appearing his mind, eyes morphed with an indefinable emotion. He had never seen those eyes in all the instances he had encountered the bully, no matter the age. In fact, he hadn't seen such eyes from anyone. They had seemed nearly haunted, as though he had bared witness to a fate worst than death in his life. The closet set of eyes he had seen to be nearly similar to his had been... "Man, this is heavy. I need to talk to Doc about this."


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5  
_

 **Disclaimer:** ** **Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale own** Back to the Future, not me.**

 _~November 22nd, 1955~_

Marty blink sluggishly, as he woke. He rubbed his eyes, feeling as though he had actually gotten a good night's sleep for once since arriving to 1955 for the third time. He couldn't quite recall his dreams, though they didn't seem to be nightmares for once, yet he had an uneasy feeling about them. He supposed it was better than the bloodcurdling screams he released, when he woke, after dreams of death and the future. Though they had lessened somewhat, he still had them often enough, to concern Doc. He frowned into the darkened room, wondering the time. As the seasons had changed, the sun rose later and later. He rolled over in his bed, flicking on the table lamp on his side table, staring at the alarm clock. The time 6:59 AM registered in his mind and he supposed he should get ready now, for school staring at 7:15 AM. Marty reached out for a slip of paper, tucked underneath the clock, reading it. " _Dear_ _Marty, I went out earlier this morning to get supplies for our project and the car broke down a block from here. I came back to leave this note and had to get the car towed to an auto-shop. I'm sorry, but it appears you'll have to walk to school today. I'll be here, by the time you return from school. -Emmett L. Brown_."

"Shit!" He cursed at the hastily written letter. He scrambled up from the bed, racing to the closet for his outfit. At times such as these, he wished he had his skateboard, because he knew he would be late by this point. He hastily put together an outfit, sprinting into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Marty briefly thought about using the hoverboard, but decided that would be a poor choice on his part. He nearly tripped down the staircase, slamming down his school supplies, and reached for a banana. He particularly shoveled it into his mouth, glancing at the clock. He nearly choked on the fruit, when he read it to be 7:09 AM, six minutes until class started. Day two of school and he was already going to be late. Strickland was going to kill him!

After locking the door, he hurtled down the driveway, to the sidewalk. When he pushed open the doors to the school, a hallway clock read 7:20 AM. He thrust open his locker, shoving his books in, before sneaking to first hour. He peeked his head, discovering the teacher to missing, the students chattering away. He realized with relief, that the teacher himself was late. By the time the teacher arrived, he had been already in his seat. The rest of the day went off peacefully, second hour having a Marty sneaking glances at his father, as he wrote his story, instead of listening to the teacher. His mother noticed this as well, and shared a smile with Marty. He chatted with Lester in third hour, listening to his interest in music, specifically Elvis. Marty couldn't express his favorites, besides Chuck Berry, the only one he thought his new friend would know. He ignored the impending fear growing, as he thought about fifth hour.

When he was finally in Chemistry, the 17-year-old ignored Biff Tannen sitting on the lab stool to his left. He realized his panic about the bully wasn't as physically fearful as yesterday, though his stomach was clenched tight. He was genuinely surprised that Biff didn't acknowledge him through the entire period, scribbling cringe worthy doodles instead. Commenting on them would of been a dangerous decision, so he kept silent himself, writing notes. Once the bell rang, he headed out of the school, down the street. Marty sensed someone following him though and he sped up his pace. He paused, staring at a side mirror of a vehicle beside him. In the reflection, the revelation of Biff standing behind him caused panic. He immediately sprinted on the sidewalk, hearing the Tannen coming after him. "COME BACK HERE, BUTTHEAD!"

The brunet needed to escape from the bully, before he caught him and did God knows what. He highly suspected a beating would ensue, one that would trigger the memory of shotgun aimed at him. He panted, aware he couldn't lead Biff back to Doc's mansion, instead an idea coming to mind. He changed direction, hearing Biff angrily shouting after him. Marty didn't know he managed to remain ahead of the other teenager, yet somehow he did. He spotted the destination he had in mind, the Tannen household coming up on his right. Only when he hopped over the fence surrounding the yard, did Biff realize where they were. Marty sprinted to the porch, hearing the panicked cry from behind. "BROWN!"

He knocked on the door, glancing over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Biff opening the gate, slamming it behind himself. He knocked once more as Biff reached out for his collar from behind, before the door swung open inwards. The grip on his collar immediately released, though Marty didn't notice, as he realized he was staring at someone's chest. Marty gulped, raising his head up to reveal an older man, looming over him. He suspected the man was at least six foot five or possibly more. His mouth went dry, as the man, hair slicked back, glowered down at him. He removed his cigarette from his mouth, ashes falling from the end of it. "Who the hell are you?"

"I..uh..." He couldn't reply properly to his Texan accented voice, stomach churning at the sight of him.

"He's a friend, P-Pa..." Biff muttered from behind, causing the Irving Tannen's attention to shift to his son.

He narrowed his eyes at the teenager. His eyes. They were exactly as the original Biff Tannen's. Cold hearted blue, full of lethal intent. He was capable of sickening actions, ones that Biff had committed. Wherever he had done them, that was another situation all together. "You usually bring friends over, _boy_?"

"Um...no...Grandma doesn't like them, so...I usually go somewhere else..."

His father pointed the cigarette in Marty's direction. "Why the hell you bringing over this scrawny thing then?"

"Uh...we were gonna...study..."

"You lying?"

"N-No..." Marty would of been stunned at how meek Biff sounded, if he hadn't been terrified at the presence of Irving. He though Biff triggered memories horribly, this man paralyzed him, from the face to his eyes. Marty had only been in this man's presence for a minute, yet he knew Doc was incorrect about the asshole genes. He was worse. "He was only gonna stay for awhile..."

Biff's father beckoned him closer, with his index finger, and the teenager hesitantly complied. He clamped the cigarette in-between his lips, grasping the bully's shoulder in a tighten grip. His other hand reached up, Biff cringing, before Irving jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Get in there and make your grandmother some tapioca. She's hungry and you don't have time to be 'studying' with friends."

"Yes, P-Pa..." The teenager mumbled, glancing at Marty with blue eyes, before hurrying inside.

As he leaned in towards Marty, the teenager taking a step back, he blew smoke into his face. Marty swatted the air, coughing on the smoke overwhelming his senses. "You don't have no business being on my property. Now, scat!"

The door was slammed shut and the 17-year-old was jolted from his paralyzing fear.

"What the hell was that about?" Marty wondered aloud, staring at the door that been slammed in his face. He frowned, the image of Biff's face appearing his mind, eyes morphed with an indefinable emotion. He had never seen those eyes in all the instances he had encountered the bully, no matter the age. In fact, he hadn't seen such eyes from anyone. They had seemed nearly haunted, as though he had bared witness to a fate worst than death in his life. The closet set of eyes he had seen to be nearly similar to his had been... "Man, this is heavy. I need to talk to Doc about this."

 _~BTTF~_

"...and, I don't know, Doc. The whole thing seemed sorta weird, you know? I mean, I thought you said his old man left like years ago." Marty assisted his friend with lifting the supplies Doc had obtained (stolen) from the local junkyard, including ragged tires.

The blond released a grunt, from lifting one from Marty's hands, onto the workshop table in the garage. "He did leave years ago. And, I agree with how odd that entire situation seems. I would surmise though, that he came to take care of his mother, considering the fact that's shes pushing 90 and has been raising a boy for seventeen years."

The time traveler handed another flat tire to Doc, the weight of the tires causing his arm muscles to strain. "I kinda thought about that, too, but Doc, he didn't see the way he looked. It was almost like Biff was..."

"Like?" The scientist prodded, with a frown at how he trailed off.

Marty shook his head, handing the last tire to Doc. "Nothing, anyways, when I read that you were getting supplies, I thought you were going to get something not so...shitty?"

"I needed 'shitty' tires, to test on. Remember that thickening agent I was creating to make the vehicle flame retardant?"

"Yeah, that's what you used the first time, except you used this store bought retardant, instead of making it."

"Is this common in the future or more along the lines of the plutonium?" He flipped open an old paint can, full of the retardant created, dipping a brush into the liquid.

"No, it's actually pretty easy to buy that 1985...I thought you didn't want to to know about the future?"

Doc sighed, as Marty dunked in his own brush, coating the flat tires. "I just don't want to know about anything related to us or of being historical importance. For example, I don't want to know anymore about how we have a actors as presidents."

"So, you wouldn't care if I told you how people have like three TV's in their houses in the future?"

The blond frowned at the brunet. "Why in the world would anyone want three of those?"

Marty grinned. "People really like their TV, Doc. When I went to 2015, I found out you can watch like twenty channels on one screen."

"I'm not sure how I feel about how invested someone could be, to do that." He zipped up his welding jacket and heat resistant gloves.

"I don't really know if I could even do that. Though, I always have a hard time deciding between watching 'Family Ties' and 'Saturday Night Live'."

"I haven't a clue what either of those are." He slid on his welding helmet, adjusting the strap behind his head.

"Don't worry about." He replied, handing the welding torch to the scientist, before sliding on his own helmet.

"You have your helmet on securely?"

"Yep," Marty answered, as Doc turned the oxygen and gas nobs on. The 17-year-old light the torch with a sparker, flinching as a mass of flames erupted from the end, blacken smoked billowing around it. Doc adjusted one of the nobs, the smoke lessening, and leaned forward to touch the tires with the fire. He adjusted the other nob, causing the flame to increase in size. He pressed it closer to the rubber, running the torch back and forth across the the material. A dull hissing penetrated their ears, the producing no reaction. "I think it's working, Do-"

The tire began to melt, before the rubber oozed to the ground, near Doc's feet. Doc yelped from the heat near him, snapping off the scientist pressed a hand to Marty's chest, causing him to step back, as half of the tire dribbled to the floor below, producing a bubbling puddle. The pair started at the mess, before Doc removed his helmet. He released a dreary sigh, setting down the welding torch, beside the stack of the other deflated tires. "I'm sorry, Marty."

"Doc, seriously, it's fine. I'm not even worried. We'll figure it out. I don't really know what you used, but maybe we can work on something else in the meantime? We still haven't decided on the car, so we can do that instead. I know some stuff about cars, so I can help find a lightweight one."

"Oh, well, I suppose we could, though I do have to think about what could produce a better retardant. Do you happen to know the ingredients they use in the future? I could replicate it to produce a similar one."

"Uh, sorry, Doc, but I don't really know much about that. I've seen the cans at the stores a thousand times, but haven't really used it."

"I perhaps could ask the local firefighters to borrow their foam, to use in re-creating this, though they don't really trust me after me lighting something on fire in the garage about seven times now. They might react negatively to me attempting to use that, for any purpose. It's getting late though, so I believe it's about time the both of us take showers and head to bed." He unzipped his jacket, hanging it on a hook connected to the wall of his left. Marty nodded, copying his action, as they headed out the garage, back to the mansion.

Marty nearly mentioned how Doc needed to be concerned about the firefighters coming to the Von Braun mansion, instead of the garage, though he decided against doing so.

 _~November 24th, 1955~_

When Marty had gone to school, the day after the failed testing of the retardant, Biff Tannen hadn't even come to Chemistry. He wasn't surprised by that, believing the notion of him ditching class to be plausible. When he observed the other bullies enter the classroom, the teenager found it strange that he would ditch class on his own. This though escaped his mind quick though, excited for the Thanksgiving weekend. When he woke the following day, he assisted Doc prepare the turkey, planning on creating a brine for the bird. "I haven't actually made a turkey in many years. Usually, I eat simply a normal meal, but since you're here this year, I though I should actually make one."

"I haven't had a turkey for a really long time either. Usually my family gets KFC-you know, that fastfood joint that's down the street from here-and then I go to hang out with you. Not really any different from any other day I had in the future, expect for how their wasn't school on Thursday," Marty observed the frown appearing on the scientist's face. He had mentioned a few minor family related events from the future, each time Doc reacting similar. The teenager knew his life hadn't been exactly perfect, his family being nontraditional as a whole, but he hated when the man did that. "What?"

"Absolutely nothing," The blond shortly replied, shutting the fridge, the turkey submerged in the water full of spices. "Just...well, your family life seemed..."

"Seemed what? Pathetic?"

"Now, I wasn't going to say that, Marty. I was just...well, your family doesn't ever seem conventional, but least you all got along."

"Just barely. Sometimes I couldn't...stand to be around them, you know? That's part of the reason I would hang out with you a lot." Doc appeared startled by the statement, though before he could utter a sentence, the telephone rang. Marty headed out of the kitchen, leaving behind the scientist, as he headed to the living room. He picked the phone up, speaking into it. "Brown estate."

"Better watch yourself, Brown, or you might get burned." The voice chuckled into his ear.

He frowned, a chill running down his spine. "What? Who is this?"

The other line hung up and he set the phone back onto the jack. "Marty?"

The teenager glanced up from the phone, frowning at his friend. "Doc...do people usually call your house and give death threats?"

Doc sighed. "I'm sorry you had to encounter th-"

"Hey, don't apologize. What that guy said was a stupid. I mean, why the hell would you call someone and tell them you're gonna hurt them?" He growled, clenching the phone, when it suddenly began to ring once more. Marty picked it up, pressing it to his ear, ignoring Doc attempting to remove the phone from his hands. "Listen, I don't know who the fuc-"

"C-Calvin?" His mother stuttered over the line, sounding concerned by his town.

"Ah, shit, sorry about that, Lorraine. This guy just called us and threatened my uncle. I thought it was him, again." Marty hastily explained, Doc dropping his hands, when he realized who the time traveler spoke to.

"Oh no! That's horrible!"

"Yeah, I know, I know, but they happen a lot apparently, _something_ I didn't know," Marty empathized this, narrowing his eyes at Doc, whom was disappearing off to the kitchen. "I think things are gonna be fine though."

"Well, that's good," She sounded revealed by his reassurance. "Oh, my mother wanted to know if you were coming over today? She's been really been wanting to see you and I'm sure George would feel less awkward if you were there."

"Uh, I think he'll be fine on his own...are you going over to his house later?"

"Yes, this will be the first time he'll actually introduce me to his parents, so I hope I can make a good impression. I'm actually nervous enough, that I smoked three cigarettes today." She trailed off into a whisper, as though someone was nearby.

"Lorraine, seriously, stop with all that smoking. It's not good for you."

"Oh, but everyone is doing it!"

"I know, but that stuff can kill you, you know?"

"Marty, you're sounding like my mother, again."

"I know, I know, but you're my friend and, uh, I worry about you."

"I'm a big girl, Marty. I can take care of myself. Aside from that though, how do you feel about us coming around 5:30 tonight?"

"Yeah, that's fin-Wait, 'us'? Did you finally convince George to come and meet Doc?"

"...Well, not exactly, but I may have to...give him some affection to get my way."

"Jesus, Lorraine, I don't need to know how you're going to do it, especially if it's that. I'm...I'm just gonna hang up now, because that was weird."

His mother giggled into his ear. "You're such a prude, Marty."

"Ugh, goodbye Lorraine," He hung up with a groan, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He didn't need to visualize his parents in those type of activities. They were only 17 years old! He didn't suspect George would be brave enough to escalate their actions beyond groping, but he knew his mother had the courage in her to do more. Marty shuddered, with a shake of his head. He honestly needed a distraction at the moment, so he headed to the living room, where Doc was watching "The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade". He plopped down onto the couch next to him, knowing that some things about people would never change, such as his friend's love for this parade each year.

 _~BTTF~_

Just as Doc had pulled the turkey from the oven, was there a knock upon the front door. Marty headed over to the door, swinging it open, revealing the darkness outside. Lorraine beamed at him, clinging onto George's arm. He appeared on edge, tense, as he peered beyond Marty, into the house. His jaw twitched, before his girlfriend's spoke. "It worked!"

"...I don't wanna know how she tricked you to come here, but since you already are, you might as well come in and met Doc." Marty stepped aside, inviting the couple in, and slamming it shut behind them.

"Marty! Is that Lorraine?" Doc called from the kitchen, George biting his lip, as he heard the voice.

"Yeah, George is here, too," Doc appeared moments later, removing his mittens as he approached the trio. George stared at him with wide eyes, as Doc ran his hands across the top of his methodically combed hair. Marty was beside him, leaning towards is side to whisper to him. "My dad's sorta scared, so, uh, be careful, ok?"

He nodded to the the 17-year-old, before he reached out for Lorraine's hand, squeezing it gently. "It's nice to see you again, Lorraine. I'm glad you could make it."

"It's good to see you, too, Dr. Brown. And, I have to say you look spiffy in your sweatervest."

Doc briefly glanced down at the gingham patterned vest, before nodding at her. "Why, thank you. I bought it nearly a month ago, as my other one had been torn apart by Copernicus. He can be quite naughty at times."

"Copernicus is your dog, isn't he?"

"That would be correct. I'm sure he's around here somewhere, possibly sleeping away as usual. The only time he even gets up is to help me in my experiments."

George nails jabbed into his girlfriend's hand at these words, causing her to glare at him heatedly. "E-Experiments?"

"Why, yes, my experiments. He usually gives me screwdrivers and such, though not as much now, since Marty has come."

"Yeah, apparently I'm his dog now." Marty rolled his eyes.

Doc chuckled at the words, before innocently extending his hand to the McFly. "I don't believe I've formally introduced myself; I'm Doctor Emmett Brown, Marty's uncle."

George stared at his hand, as though it held a weapon, instead of an introduction. Marty observed the tense situation, aware that this entire meeting could end up becoming a disaster. He prayed it wouldn't considering how difficult it would be to separate the friendship with Doc, from his parent's. He had no idea how he could do that for at least ten years. Lorraine elbowed her boyfriend in the ribs, causing him to wince. She hissed at him, obviously upset by his behavior. "Be nice, George!"

There was a pause, before he reached out cautiously, shaking the scientist's hand. "...n-nice to meet you, Dr. Brown..."

He tugged his hand away, merely seconds later, avoiding eye contact with Doc. The scientist, obviously disappointed at the reaction, forced a smile to the trio, though Marty could view how he truly felt through the front. "Well, you two came just in time; I was about to slice up the turkey. Shall we convene in the kitchen?"

"Oh, goodie! I tried not to eat much today, though I might get full pretty quick, since this will be my third Thanksgiving meal of the day," Lorraine explained, as they four of them entered the kitchen, the bowls and platters already set up around the table. George and Lorraine settled themselves onto one side of the table, with Doc and Marty on the other. The scientist held a carving knife, beginning to cut into the warm food. Marty extended his plate, as Doc lifted the first piece. Lorraine and George passed down their plates as well for slices. When the others had received their own, Doc gave himself a slice, before reaching for the mashed potatoes. "Wow, this is delicious, Dr. Brown."

"Thank you. Marty and I created a brine for it, though neither of us has done so before. I'm honestly surprised how well it came out."

"I'm just surprised you didn't start a fire, Doc, considering your reputation with that." Marty pointed his fork at his friend, as he spoke, mouth partially full of turkey.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure submerged a turkey in water would result in a house fire."

After that, there was an awkward silence, filled with the sounds of silverware clattering onto the plates, and the bowls/platters being passed among one another. Marty was surprised that Doc would initiating the conversation with George, clearing his throat. "George, I've heard from Marty that you watch 'Science Fiction Theatre'."

The teenager appeared startled by the statement, gulping down the green beans he was currently consuming. "Uh, yes..."

"What's your favorite episode? I particularly enjoyed the one involving the hurricane and the meteor."

George blinked, setting down his silverware. "Wait, you watch 'Science Fiction Theatre'?"

"Of course. I watched the first episode and was hooked since then. It's one of my favorite shows."

"Wow...uh, I...I didn't think you would be into that."

"Well, considering my obsession with Jules Verne, I would have to say that it would be a bit obvious."

"That...Who is that, again? Isn't he an author?"

Doc's lips spread into a smile. "Tell me, have you heard of 'Journey to the Center of the Earth'?"

 _End Chapter 5_

 **Perhaps I should rephrase my statement about updates; you readers will get a new chapter around each Wednesday. I should apologize, considering how often I do this (I can't count the number of times I've done this on my Gravity Falls fic). At times though, things don't go according to plan and I honestly meant to keep my word (though I guess it was a good thing I updated on Thursday last time, because as a review had pointed out to me, November 12th was the day the clock tower was struck by lightning, though I should of know this considering the date I had written in the first chapter of this). I did update though and with a Thanksgiving chapter, to celebrate the holidays. Notes for this chapter include the following; once again, I had to turn to my handy friend, Mr. Google for names. Irving Tannen is the name of Biff's father from the video game, though I won't follow any of the plot involving that. I figured that Doc must of used a type of fire repellent on the DeLorean's tires, so they wouldn't be affected by the flames produced, when they would reach 88 MPH. I also had to Google how to use a wielding torch (which was actually pretty fun to watch). For anyone that doesn't know, the Macy Thanksgiving Day Parade is on NBC each year, since 1952, featuring a series of floats, balloons, and famous celebrities. I've watched that every Thanksgiving, since I was a toddler, so I have fond memories of it. And, it turns out Science Fiction ****Theatre was a real TV show and the episode I referred to was the 26th episode of the series, "Target: Hurricane" (I didn't watch it though).**

 **Preview:**

"Where the hell did you get that?" He blurted out, without meaning to.

Luckily, no one could hear him from the back of the classroom. Biff paused in the middle of copying the notes on the board though, his head snapping to Marty, jaw twitching, as he glowered at him. "...if you know what's good for you, Brown, you would shut your damn mouth."


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6  
_

 **Disclaimer:** ** **Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale own** Back to the Future, not me.**

 _~November 28th, 1955~  
_

After Thanksgiving, Marty was genuinely surprised to notice a change in his father. It may of had to do with the fact that he was currently one of the top choices of class president or perhaps it had to do with discovering that Doctor Emmett Brown wasn't a crazed murderer, as everyone claimed he was. He knew a change had occurred though, when he noticed his father talking to a massive group of students during lunch. He seemed more confident, than we had had first met him 1955, and beginning to wonder if this was a good or bad thing. Marty thought about going through the crowd to reach him, but decided against it today. Lorraine would join them at times, though she usually was with her own friends. Marty decided to join his mother today instead, sliding into the empty space on her right. She appeared surprised, with Babs rolling her eyes at him from Lorraine's left. "Calvin! What are you doing here? You usually sit with George."

"Yeah, well competing with that is sorta hard." He pointed his plastic fork in the direction of the crowd, before stabbing his green beans.

"Are you jealous? I thought that was my job." She giggled, covering her mouth.

"Not really sure why anyone would be jealous of him...or even like him for that matter..." Babs muttered, sipping from her milk carton.

"Babs!" Lorraine shoved her friend in the arm and Bab's pout melted into the beginnings of a smile. Marty rolled his eyes, realizing his mother's choice of friends perhaps wasn't that best. He supposed that was why he had never seen or heard of her having any, when he had been growing up. Lorraine whipped her head back to him, her hair bouncing. "Really though, Marty, I'm actually happy for him. From what I understand, he's never been quite too popular, so I'm glad he's getting the attention he's wanted. As long as he doesn't get a swollen head from all of this, I'm perfectly alright with how he's being treated right now."

"Well, I guess it's better than him being shoved into lockers, like before." Marty bit into his cheeseburger, shrugging his shoulders.

"Not like he didn't deserve it." Babs cut in, causing Marty to pause in mid-chew. He glanced at his mother, revealing her lips twitching, attempting not to smile at her words. The 17-year-old felt a flare of anger in his chest, beginning to grow tried of how she spoke of his father and how Lorraine didn't even defend him at all. He dropped his burger back onto the tray, standing from the seat, and left without a word. He ignored Lorraine calling after him in confusion, as he headed outside, to eat alone.

 _~BTTF~_

When Biff appeared next to him during the last period of the day, he barely felt that crippling stomach churning he had experienced the previous times. He thought perhaps that he had grown adjusted to his presence, no longer fearful of what he was capable of. This Biff Tannen wasn't anywhere near to any version of him in the future, which he believed he realized after meeting Biff's father. He glanced over to what Biff was doodling in his notebook, though he was surprised to discover they were words written from the board. He hadn't seen him do that before. The brunet turned his head slightly, to reveal the side profile of his face, staring at the board, appearing bored. Marty felt his lips part, staring at his jawline. A smudge of darkness was spread along it, bruised darkly enough to appear purple.

"Where the hell did you get that?" He blurted out, without meaning to. Luckily, no one could hear him from the back of the classroom. Biff paused in the middle of copying the notes on the board, his head snapping to Marty, jaw twitching. "Uh...I..."

"...if you know what's good for you, Brown, you would shut your damn mouth." He snarled, spit hissing from his mouth.

A drizzle of spit in his face, causing him to flinch. "Alright, alright, just stop spitting at me, will you?"

He expected a reaction of anger at the words, though Biff instead snapped his mouth shut. Marty did receive a heated glare, though no other actions occurred, as he went back to writing notes. Marty was beyond bewildered at his controlled behavior. He frowned, staring intently at the other teenager. He noticed Biff's eyes shifted over to him, before he squirmed in his seat. Biff never struck Marty as the time to be uncomfortable over lingering stares, only offended. That's what he was at that moment though; uncomfortable. Did this have to with the event at his grandmother's house? Marty would be willing to humiliate the Tannen family at any given time, but he knew where to draw the line. He knew how he felt when someone bad-mouthed his own father. "...uh, I didn't...really tell anyone about your dad, if that's what you're thinking..."

His pencil pressed into the paper in front of him, the tip snapping. "...how did you know who he was, Brown?"

"Uh...just heard about him around town..." He lied.

Biff twisted his head the side, mouth twisted into a scowl. "If you knew what was good for you, butthead, you would stay away from my house."

"Yeah, I got the same memo from your dad, when he breathed smoke into my face," Marty explained, eyes shifting down to the exposed skin of the bully's wrist, noticing a bruise peeking out. "Seriously though, where did you get those bruises? You finally found someone that you can't beat up and steal their lunch money from?"

He leaned in, voice low. "I got it from beating the the shit outta of buttheads, like _you_."

Marty rolled his eyes. "Biff, I'm not scared of you."

"You were pretty scared of me, when your little wussy ass ran off last week, and you'll be pretty scared of me when I corner you one of these days, and beat you to a pulp," Biff threatened and that was when Marty felt the churning return. From the glint in his eyes, he was sure this wasn't an empty threat, he appeared deadly serious about injuring him. "You look pretty scared right now, too, Brown."

Those eyes held the darkening danger, as his own father had presented to him on the porch last week. Biff was infected with the option of murder, to break him to pieces, just how he had been to Marty in his nightmares. A smirk was spread across the Tannen's face, aware of Marty's intense fear towards him. He leaned in further, sleeve sliding upwards, and the brunet's eyes immediately darted to the exposed skin. The outline of a hand was imprinted as a bruise to his wrist, darker than the one on his jawline. Marty realized at that moment, how he had gotten those bruises. "...y-your dad did that to you."

The reaction was immediate, Marty's lab stool tilting backwards, as Biff shoved him over. Marty scrambled to grasp hold of the table, but his hands slid away, and the back of his head bashed into the title floor below. Spot danced in his vision, the breath completely knocked out of him, before he felt the Tannen on top of him. A handful of blows was brought to his face, before the weight on top of him was removed. Through the spots, he observed the teacher holding Biff back from him, yelling at him to control himself. Marty partially sat up, leaning onto his left forearm, as he rubbed the back of his head. Blood dripped from his nose, onto his shirt, and he was feeling lightheaded. The bully's face was beat red, screaming at the brunet, while the teacher pushed him back. "-NOW SHIT ABOUT ME, YOU KNOW ABSOLUTE SHIT, BROWN!"

For the first time since the trip to alternate 1985 though, Marty McFly wasn't afraid of Biff Tannen.

 _~BTTF~_

Marty hung his head in-between his legs, pinching his nose, fingertips becoming wet from the blood. A trail of thin blood drizzled into the bucket below him, and he snatched a tissue from the tissue box, in order to wipe his hands. He sat in a bench located in the hallway, in front of the principal's office, awaiting for Strickland to call him in. He had been in the nurse's office about five minutes prior, before she sent him off to wait here. He was confident Doc would appear any minute now and wasn't looking forward to explaining what had occurred in class about ten minutes ago. He had made a decision though, one he would go through with, no matter the costs. "Brown."

He peered up, noticing Strickland standing in the doorway of his office, frowning down at him. Marty snatched up the bucket and tissue box, standing to his feet in slow-motion, in an attempt to reduce the dizzy feeling he was enduring. He had a headache, though the nurse had informed him that would be perfectly alright. If the bleeding didn't completely cease in about twenty minutes, he needed to return to her. His nose no longer gushed blood, though a stream continued to occasionally leak from his nostrils. When he entered the office, the principal shut the door, pointing at the chair in front of his desk. "Sit."

Marty complied, setting the bucket in-between his thighs, staring at the man behind his desk. "...Brown, mind explaining to me what the hell happened in Chemistry today?"

"...Me and Biff were talking and I said the wrong thing to him and he got offended." He explained, voice congested.

Strickland leaned across the desk, narrowing his eyes at Marty. "...Listen here, Brown, you're a slacker, specifically if you think an explanation like that would pass as an excuse for what happened today. What exactly did you two say to each other?"

Marty shrugged, wiping his nose with a tissue. "I mentioned his dad, because I met him the other day."

"If you think that lie will work, then you have another thing coming. His father hasn't been in Hill Valley for years."

"I'm not lying. I don't know how long he's been around, but I saw him last week."

"Really? Because, Tannen said you insulted his grandmother, and this entire fiasco had nothing to do with that," He leaned his head forward, removing the tissue, and dropping it into the bucket. As a thin stream of blood dribbled down his lips and chin, he wiped up what had leaked across his face. He closed his eyes, a wave of dizziness causing him to feel ill. He opened his eyes, finding Strickland's face softening at his pale face. "Did Mrs. Britts check your nose to see if it was broken?"

"Yeah..." He sniffled, before stuffing more tissue into his nose. "...I didn't mention his grandma. I met his dad, when I went by his house and..."

"What?"

Marty briefly thought of telling Strickland his theory, but decided against doing so a second later. He barely trusted Strickland and didn't want the idea to be waved off. Besides, it was hard to believe that someone like Biff would be abused by his own father. He was actually beginning to doubt himself, about the idea, due to how ridiculous it sounded. He rather tell Doc though, because Biff deserved a lot, but being abused wasn't one of those things. He shook his head and stood from the seat, clinging to the bucket. "I'm telling the truth, ok? Now, can I go home? I'm pretty sure you already called my uncle and he's probably going to be here any second now."

The principal narrowed his eyes, though before he could speak, there was a knock on the door of the office. "...Come in."

The door was cracked open, with Doc peeking into the room. He stepped inside, eyes widening at Marty's slightly dripping nose. Marty shook his head though, mouthing not to talk about the injury here. The blonde turned his eyes to Strickland, clutching tightly to the fedora he held in his hands. "Is Marty free to go?"

Strickland glared at the scientist, before whirling his chair around, to face the window. He seemed to be observing the sunny day outside, a pair of students seen in the distance, talking by a vehicle. He waved his hand towards the doorway, muttering his reply. "Go home Brown."

"...Alright, Marty, you heard the man. I'm sure he wants us out of his hair now," Doc wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding him out the door, closing i gently behind them. As they headed down the empty hallway , neither spoke a word, the only sounds being their echoing footsteps and the sniffling from the younger of the pair. Marty's nose had mostly ceased dripping, though he continued to feel congested. He honestly wanted to go back to the mansion and take a hot shower and go to bed. He knew though, that Doc would want to talk to him, once they were alone. As they entered the parking lot, Doc plucked up his bike, setting it in the back seat of the Packard. Marty sat in the passenger seat, breathing deeply. Doc got in the driver's seat and started the car. As they exited the parking lot, Doc glanced at his friend. "Are you alright? Did you see the nurse?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, and I did. It's not bleeding anymore." He wiped at his face, attempting to clean up the mess spread around his nose and mouth.

"God...I'm glad you're alright," Doc didn't utter another word on the matter, as they continued along the road, and Marty was grateful. When they arrived home, he expected a conversation to happen, but he was surprised when Doc asked for the bucket instead. He handed it over to the scientist, watching him as he began to wash it out in the sink. "Why don't you go and take a shower now?"

"Uh...ok..." Marty mumbled, confusion played out across his face. He thought for sure there would be questions, but it seemed as though he had been left off the hook on this one. After Marty had finished his shower, leaving the room full of steam, he had felt much better. He entered the kitchen in his pajamas, opening the fridge. The brunet reached in and removed the ingredients to make a sandwich. As he turned around to set them on the counter, he jolted, as a voice calling out his name reached his ears though. He glanced up from the counter, revealing Doc to be sitting at the table. "Jesus, Doc, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"I didn't mean to frighten you, but we need to discuss what occurred today in your Chemistry class." Marty sighed at the words, abandoning the sandwich, and sitting across from him. He couldn't avoid this conversation, even if he wished to. The teenager motioned to him to continue on and Doc did exactly that. "What did happen, to warrant Biff to beat the living shit out of you?"

"He didn't exactly beat the living shit outta me, Doc. And, why do you have to describe it like that? It makes me sound like a wuss."

"I don't mean to portray you as a 'wuss', Marty, but quite frankly, your face looks like hell, and stepping into that office to see blood smeared across your face scared me."

Marty gulped down the guilt he felt welling up inside, realizing Doc's face was a mask of concern. "I...I'm sorry, Doc...I didn't mean to do that to you..."

"Marty, I'm not upset with you, but you need to understand that the last image I need of you, is covered in blood. When I received the phone call from the nurse, I thought it would be worse than how she described it. She reassured me you were find, but I was still scared nonetheless. You're fine though and I'm glad for that. The only question I have left is what did you say to him, to make him injure you?"

The 17-year-old bit his lip, before confessing he theory. "I saw that he had bruises and...thought his dad did it, but...he got mad and then just...you know, started punching me."

Doc raised an eyebrow. "That's a pretty big accusation, Marty."

"I know, I know, but...you didn't see the one on his arm. It looked like a hand, you know? And, he didn't have any, until he dad showed up...I really don't like him, but he doesn't deserve having someone doing that to him."

"...Marty, I'll leave an anonymous phone call with the police, to go by his house to check out Irving Tannen, but there isn't much else I could do...I know I told you not to discuss the future, but do you know if these events occurred in your original timeline?"

"I don't really know. The only thing about Biff's past I knew, before time traveling, was that he went to the same high school as my parents. I didn't really know much else besides that."

"You're aware then, that this involvement could cause problems with the future then?"

"Yeah, but...maybe you're right about how he's only an asshole, because his dad is. Maybe if, I don't know, get his dad away from him, he might not be as much as an asshole, you know? I mean, the last time I saw future Biff, he was a kiss up to my dad, but that was only because he could stand up to Biff. Biff was still how he usually is, but he tried to act innocent."

"So, you would be willing to change the future, so he wouldn't be the same in the future? You are aware, that this could possibly change what he did when you went to 2015 and alter your memories, correct?"

Marty hadn't thought that entire situation through and was realizing how much that could affect the future. He was already messing around enough with the timeline with the future as it was, and could only afford minimal differences from this point on. "...I know...I guess, I'll just mind my own business and let whatever happened to him...just happen..."

Marty couldn't help but feel he was in the midst of a mistake though.

 _~December 1st, 1955~_

Though Marty hadn't been punished for the assault on Monday, Biff Tannen had expelled for a week from the high school. He would of thought he deserved it, if it wasn't for the feeling, that being expelled would result in several more bruises to appear on Biff come Monday of next week. He brooded over this and the fact that he had taken to eating alone during lunch. George had continued to be flattered by the students, constantly surrounding him, so Marty didn't bother attempting to compete with that. And, he didn't want to be around Lorraine, as long as Babs influenced her to make fun of her her own boyfriend. It seemed as though she knew better than to approach him the following day, and he was glad. His nightmares had been reducing in frequency as time went along, but his sleep schedule continued to irregular, from the hours he would spend, thinking over his troubles. Doc had been attempting to create a retardant for the future time machine, though he wasn't having much success. Honestly, what he wanted the most right now, was to go home, though he knew that wouldn't be occurring any time soon.

When Lorraine appeared beside him during lunch on Thursday, he released a sigh. "What?"

"Well, I was just wondering why you've been avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you, Lorraine, I just wanted to sit alone for awhile." He replied, mouth full of pizza.

"Swallow, Calvin," Unconsciously, Marty listened to her, swallowing his food, before she continued on. "And, I think you're lying. The last time I saw you, you got upset, and left the table. I don't know why you're all moody, but I miss sitting with you."

Marty felt himself grow warm around the face at this comment, noticing that Lorraine seemed to beam at him, when she noticed his face. "Oh, alright...I...I don't really like your friend."

She frowned. "Babs?"

"Yeah, her. She's not really a nice person."

"Marty, she's my best friend."

"I know that, but she makes these comments that get under my skin, you know?"

Lorraine rolled her eyes. "She does the same to George. Babs is just that sort of person a-"

"See, you're not even listening. She doesn't like me or George. And, before you say she does, if you actually paid attention, you would know she doesn't. I have no idea why, but she hates the both of us. George has told me that he knows how much she hates him and how she makes all these jabs at personality and how he looks. He doesn't like it and neither do I. He's my friend and I don't like people mocking my friends. I can handle all the jabs she makes at me, but I can't handle when she does it to him. And, it makes me more pissed off, when you laugh along with her about it. You think she's joking, but she isn't. If George knew you enjoyed the comments, he would be hurt."

The brunette bit her lip. "Calvin, I-I didn't mean t-"

"Yeah, you did. You're my friend, too, but if you keep this up, I don't think I'm going to want to be. And, if George ever finds out, he might now want to be dating you anymore," He knew he needed to bite this in the head, before this caused issues in their marriage. If he didn't well, history might repeat itself, or be worse than before. "I'm going to give you some time to think this over, but don't talk to me, until you decide if you want to continue being a...being how you are right now, or actually stand up for your hus-boyfriend."

He left without another word.

 _~December 2nd, 1955~  
_

"Calvin?" The voice meekly whispered, from behind the door of his locker. He slapped it shut, revealing Lorraine and Babs to be standing beside him. His eyes observed the grimace on Babs' face and the nervousness his mother presented. She shifted her schoolbooks in her arms, while biting her lip. She hesitated, before blurting out her next words to him. "I'm sorry for treating you and George the way I have been."

Marty shifted his eyes to Babs, then back to his mother. "...Are you gonna stop laughing when he gets made fun of?"

"I promise, I really do, Marty. I won't ever do that to George, ever again. It was wrong of me to ever do that."

He could see how genuinely apologetic and guilty she was at her own behavior. Her eyes shone with emotion, causing him to feel as though he couldn't continue to be upset with her behavior. Marty had grown to care for his mother in a way he had never felt before and her appearing as she did now caused him to crumble underneath her gaze. "Oh, alright, I forgive you."

Lorraine beamed at him, throwing her arms around his neck, completely catching him by off guard. He felt the tension leave his body, after getting over his shock, before patting her back. He noticed Babs narrowing her eyes at him, before he dropped his hands. Lorraine pulled up, continuing to appear excited by his forgiveness. "Thank you, Calvin...Babs?"

The other teenager crossed her arms, as the brunette gazed to her. She released a burdensome sigh, avoiding eye contact as she spoke. "I'm sorry for treating you and McFly the way I have been. I won't make fun of him anymore and I'll stop being mean to you."

She didn't seem honest about her apology, but he was confident Lorraine wouldn't stand for her behavior anymore. He could trust his mother to defend his father from that point on. His lips spread into a smirk, before replying to Lorraine's friend. "I forgive you, but that doesn't mean I like you."

Her eyes snapped up to his. "The same goes to you."

"Marty! Babs! Behave!"

"I think we are, Lorraine. Anyways, I gotta get to class, so I'll see you two around later." He waved a hand over his shoulder at a glowering Babs and Lorraine rolling her eyes, as he ended off to his first hour.

 _~BTTF~_

Marty didn't know what compelled him to do so, but he would realize this was perhaps the point he first began to notice the change in who he was. When he had arrived to Chemistry, he had been distracted by the notion that Biff wasn't going to be showing up on Monday. Throughout the period that day, he kept wondering about the bruises and about Irving Tannen. When he was finished with school for the day, he had driven down to the Tannen household, instead of the Von Braun mansion. He parked a few houses down, before heading closer to the house he desired. When he arrived, he headed across the street, hiding behind a vehicle. He squatted there, for perhaps 15 minutes, before realizing what he was doing. "Jesus, what am I? A stalker? God, I should just go home."

The sun was already setting, as he began to push himself up from the sidewalk. He froze in place, when he heard an roar of fury, and a shattering from within the house. He immediately went back to hiding, peeking out from the side of the vehicle. The yelling continued, before there was another shatter. It became silent for a few moments, before the loudest shatter was heard. He felt his heart thumping at the noises, before silence echoed throughout the street. He frowned, before the front door was flung open. As Biff sprinted out the door, a empty alcohol bottle was flung out, narrowly missing his head. "YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSEHOLD!"

Biff staggered back a few feet, before Irving Tannen appeared at the doorway, shoulders heaving. From the distance Marty was hidden, he could see the hue of red he had on his face, the slight slur of his voice heard to his ears. He waved a partially full glass of beer, before he flung it at the teenager on his lawn. The glass exploded when it made contact with Biff's shoulder and he released cry of pain. As Irving began to advance on him, he stumbled back, until he ran into the gate surrounding the property. "YOU AREN'T WELCOME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE SHIT! NOW, GET OFF MY PROPERTY!"

He fumbled with the latch of the gate behind him, remaining standing forward, so that he didn't have his back to his raging father. Marty wasn't sure h9ow no one could hear the yelling released from the drunk Texan, even though Marty could clearly hear each word. The gate swung open and Biff back out of the property, onto the sidewalk. Irving slammed it shut, pointing his index finger threateningly at him. "IF I EVER SEE YOUR FACE AROUND HERE AGAIN, I'LL WHOOP YOUR ASS!"

Biff flinched away from the finger, before backing away, nearly into the street. In Irving's other hand, he held another empty bottle, which he raised threateningly at the teenager. Biff immediately whirled around, sprinting down the sidewalk, in the opposite direction as Marty. The bottle was hurtled through the air, before shattering on the back of Biff's head. He stumble forward a few steps, before collapsing on the sidewalk. Irving Tannen muttered underneath his breath, something Marty couldn't hear, before weaving drunkenly back to his house. A few seconds passed, before Marty found himself rushing across the street, to the fallen teenager. When he was behind Biff, he was pushing himself up to his hands and knees. Without even thinking, he began to assist him in standing. He flinched away from Marty's assignment, before appearing bewildered. "What the hell?"

Blood dripped down from his hairline, into his right eye, bruises littering his collarbone. Pieces of glass were scatter in his hair and he reached out to brush out the pieces from him. His wrist was grasped in a tight grip, causing Marty to realize perhaps this hadn't been his brightest plan. Biff leaned in, eyes unfocused, though his words were clear. "Get. the. hell. away. from. me."

"Uh...I...uh..."

"I'm gonna let go and you're going to run off like the little _chicken_ you are."

Despite being aware that Biff could possibly have a concussion and being covered his bruises, he couldn't help his anger. His hand became a fist in his grip and he narrowed his eyes at the teenager. "Nobody calls me a chicken."

"Well, I just did, Bro..." Biff trailed off, releasing hold of Marty, as he brought his hand up to his forehead. His hand traveled up to the hairline, fingers digging into the hair. He removed a piece of glass, dripping with blood. The dazed expression made Marty realize that he had been caught up in his anger with the name and that he had planned on fighting the Tannen.

"Uh...are you ok?" The brunet questioned him, as he sluggishly turned his head to him. He didn't answer, though his hand traveled to the back of his head, grimacing. He removed it from his head, staring at the blood caking his skin. "I think...I think you need a doctor."

Biff didn't answer and Marty hesitantly reached out his arm. He snaked it around Biff's back, underneath his armpit, awaiting a reaction. He could feel the trembles underneath his shirt, and Marty supposed the light snow in the air caused his shivering. That, or the adrenaline of running from his father. "I...I'm gonna help you stand, ok?"

The teenager didn't reply, so Marty continued to pull him into a hunched over, but standing position. He leaned heavily in the brunet, causing him to nearly topple over by the weight. "Jesus Christ, you're heavy."

This seemed to produce a reaction, as Biff finally glowered down at him. "What'd...you say...butthead?"

His words seemed sluggish, as though he was completely aware of what was occurring around him. Marty definitively thought this was a concussion and knew he needs medical assistance for him. He had thought about the hospital, yet he wasn't sure if Biff would want to be there. If he had lived with his father before, he was sure he had endured abuse in the past, and probably had an aversion to hospitals. They probably asked questions each time he had been there, which wouldn't be good for Irving Tannen. He knew Doc wasn't a medical doctor, though the 1985 Doc had snitched up a wound, when he injured himself trying out a new move in front of his garage. He supposed that was better than nothing. "My car is down the street. I'm taking you to my uncle."

"I rather...eat...a damn..." He trailed off from whatever he was going to tell Marty, squeezing his eyes shut. Marty began to drag him down the sidewalk, past the Tannen household, straining underneath the nearly dead weight rested against him. Marty wouldn't realize until later, that he was currently helping the man that had attempted to ruin the entire timeline, and had haunted his nightmares through his future action. He didn't give a damn about that now though, feeling only the need to help and injured teenager his own age. Doc was going to be for a surprise that night.

 _Chapter 6 End_

 **When I went to update today, I realized with horror, that I had forgotten to do so last week! What with the holidays and working throughout that entire weekend, it had completely escaped my mind, and I honestly apology for that. I hope you all could forgive me for my blunder. Anyways, you may notice that this chapter escalated quickly and that's completely the point. At a certain point, I'll begin to do larger time skips (I'm talking anywhere from months to years), since this is meant to be a story to show what being stuck in the past changes Marty's future, and the other characters. No notes for this chapter, since I find most of it to be self-explanatory. And, thank you all so much for the support so far!**

 **Preview:**

"Great Scott!" Doc gasped, as he swung open the door, to reveal Marty and Biff Tannen, the latter clearly unconscious.

"Uh, hi, Doc." He had the door held open further him, as he lugged Biff over the threshold of the mansion, his head lulling about. His eyes momentarily fluttered, blood oozing down onto his cheek, before he released a moan of pain. Doc slammed the front door shut, assisting Marty is carrying him to the living room. They breathed heavily, as they dropped his upper body onto the couch and lifted his legs, to set the rest of his body onto the furniture.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7  
_

 **Disclaimer:** ** **Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale own** Back to the Future, not me.**

 _~December 2nd, 1955~_

Doctor Emmett Lathrop Brown crumbled up yet another sheet of paper, tossing it to the trash can underneath his desk. He missed, quite a few sheets already carelessly thrown underneath, to the floor, instead of the intended goal. He hardly noticed though, snatching up another one. Doc began to scribble out equations, mumbling to himself about the various elements on the periodic table. He had been attempting to produce the retardant for the past two days, while Marty had awkwardly been awaiting for him to reveal the right equation. The scientist hadn't much luck, so the pair had been planning on searching for a used car tomorrow, in order to take a break from his current activity.

The tip of his pencil broke and he cursed. He dropped it to the table, leaning back in his chair, and running a hand through his blond hair. He hadn't felt this flustered in quite awhile and was beginning to wonder if he would ever find out what he needed to create the retardant. His thoughts were interrupted by the frantic ringing of the bell and he frowned. He glanced up at the wall clock, realizing Marty hadn't returned yet. That was perhaps the teenager himself, house key likely left in his room. It wouldn't be the first time, since arriving in this time period. He stood from his seat, back cracking as he stretched. As he made him way over to the door, he yawned, wondering if he should each fall asleep on a reasonable time for once. He swung the front door open, and Doc gasped, revealing Marty and Biff Tannen, the latter clearly unconscious. "Great Scott!"

"Uh, hi, Doc," He had the door held open further for him, as Marty lugged Biff over the threshold of the mansion, the bully's head lulling about. His eyes momentarily fluttered, blood oozing down onto his cheek, before he released a moan of pain. Doc slammed the front door shut, assisting Marty in carrying him to the living room. They breathed heavily, as they dropped his upper body onto the couch and lifted his legs, to set the rest of his body onto the furniture. Doc frowned at Marty, obviously confused and concerned about the situation. The 17-year-old leaned closer to Biff, eyebrows furrowing. "I think he has a concussion? He was acting sorta confused."

"Marty, what exactly happened? Is that glass in his hair?"

"Um...well...r-remember when I told you I though his dad hurt him?" Marty crossed his arms and began to bite at his bottom lip. Doc paled significantly at the words, suddenly feeling guilty for dissuading Marty from interfering. "I-I just went by his house, I don't really know why, and Biff came out, and then his dad did, and...w-was drunk and started throwing some bottles at him..."

"Good god, I should of notified the police, when you had your suspicions."

"I d-didn't even...he doesn't seem l-like...the type that would be a-abus..." The brunet trailed off, visibly shaken by what he had witnessed.

"Marty, this is quite serious," Doc began, reaching out to grasp the younger companion's shoulders. "We need to...need t-"

"W-We can't tell anyone..." He interrupted, eyes wide, shoulders trembling beneath Doc's hands.

"...yes...that would...ruin the timeline and..." The scientist mumbled, more concerned about Marty's state. Ever since his friend had appeared for the second time, he had thought the teenager was increasingly erratic, as though he had been traumatized by his travels. Marty had told been the rough outline of what had occurred, but hadn't one far into the details. Doc didn't want to have the future spoiled for him, but he was beginning to realize he might have to, in order for Marty to no longer keep his emotions so bottled up. "Marty, are you alright?"

"...I don't know..."

Doc began to guide the 17-year-old towards the reclining chair, pushing down on his shoulders, in order to force him to sit. "Just sit here, Marty. I'm going to look over Buford...I'm not a medical doctor, but I know a thing or two about the the anatomy of a body."

"Ok..." Doc removed his hands, briefly glancing back at his friend, who now held his face in his hands. The scientist released a sigh, approaching the couch. Biff's wide shoulders rose and fell with each breath, the left one twitching. He squatted down in front of the bully, beginning to undo the buttons of his plaid patterned shirt. He slide aside the material, revealing bruises scattered around his collar bones, though the worst was on his shoulder. Marty had informed him that bottles were thrown, so he suspected the bruise was from one of them. Doc didn't quite know why his shoulder kept twitching, though he supposed from the scrunched up face, that Biff was in pain. He hesitantly prodded the injury, a moan startling him. "Is he ok?"

Doc twisted his head around, Marty's face peeking out of his hands. "I'm not completely sure. Did a bottle hit his shoulder? The bruising around there is quite heavy."

"Yeah, uh, I think it was one of the first ones his dad threw...what about his head? One of the bottles broke when it hit him in the back of the head."

Doc frowned. "Well, that explains the glass in his hair. Is that why there's blood on his face?"

"Uh, y-yeah...he was bleeding when I helped him up."

"I can check if he has a concussion and clean up his wound, but I believe he needs an actual medical doctor to check over his condition."

"I-I don't know, Doc...they might ask a lot of questions, and uh, I don't think Biff would like waking up there, you know? And, there's also the timeline..."

"Yes, I know, the timeline, but..."

"What?"

The scientist sighed. "Marty, do you want to help him?"

"Uh...I don't know..."

"I need an answer, because, well...I think this needs to be a joint decision," He knew the timeline could be completely altered, yet he didn't believe a teenager should be treated in the manner his father had been. He knew from personal experience, what an abusive parent could do to their child. He hadn't ever been physically assaulted by his own father, but had been emotionally throughout his younger years. Perhaps this change for Biff, could prevent him from attempting to alter the future? If he knew the details of the second time traveling trip, he would be more confident in this possibility. "Marty, I need to know what exactly occurred when Biff altered the timeline, so we can decide together what we should do."

Marty's lips twitched, revealing a broken smile. "Doc, I don't think it's that important."

"I believe it is."

"No."

"Marty, please be reasonable."

"I am. We already agreed you don't need to know personal shit about the future."

"Mart-"

"Stop saying my name!" He hissed, hands clenching into fists.

Doc was surprised by this answer, eyebrows furrowing. "That's your name though, Marty."

"I know that, but you can't go two seconds without saying it! It's driving me nuts, so can you just shut the hell up!" The teenager shouted, his voice echoing throughout the mansion.

"...when was the last time you slept, because the last time I saw it was at least three days ago? You're clearly exhausted and I believe a good nights sleep would do you good."

Marty lurched up from the reclining chair, screaming at the older man, barely noticing the sympathetic face in return at his furious words. "I can't sleep, god dammit!"

"Marty, what are you trying to avoid? What causes you unable to sleep?" He knew the nightmares were fading away, but that didn't mean that Marty wasn't haunted by memories when he was awake. Doc had spent months after his parent's deaths, wondering about what he could of changed about his last encounter with them. He had persistent nightmares for the months after, suffering alone. To linger on those memories, pained him though, so he shook them from his mind. Doc hadn't had anyone there for him, but he knew he would be there for Marty. "I just want to help."

The brunet's tense appearance sagged and he flopped back down onto the chair behind him. He slouched in the seat, heels digging into the carpets below his feet, and crossed his arms over his chest. He seemed so young to Doc, and he was, the scientist realized. He had his whole life ahead of him, yet he was barely keeping himself together. Usually he kept Marty as his equal, but at this moment, he knew an adult approach was needed for the situation. He squatted down, next to the left arm of the chair. "Marty? Please, just talk to me?"

He had a furious gaze, lips protruding in a pout. He blinked a few times, eyes flickering between Doc and Biff. Just when the blond believing the topic would be brushed off as usual, Marty's eyes welled with tears, voice wobbling as he muttered. "...t-two...two days..."

"Oh, Marty...that's not good for you. Particularly for someone your age, teenagers sleep more than someone my age needs." Those shadows underneath his eyes, the ones Doc had grown accustomed to this past month, were his body begging for relief, sleep without suffering. He pretended his was fine, but he clearly wasn't.

The teenager sniffled at the words. "I-I know, but...I keep thinking about w-what happened..."

"What _did_ happen?"

The brunet pulled up his legs, no longer slouching, bringing them to his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around his knees, frame quivering. "I-I don't want...I just want to...I-I was excited, you know? You were telling me about the time machine a-and I got excited, too, but it didn't work out the way we thought it would...I-I thought you died , but you didn't! And, everything was fine. I-I was sorta upset after I got back, but it wasn't really bad. S-Sometimes I dream though...that I couldn't save you and you j-just...d-d...d-d..."

"...you said I lived though, due to your warning."

"I-I know, but sometimes I dream about it...e-ending different...they shoot you...and you don't have the vest on and then...then they shoot m-me..."

"Marty, you didn't get shot."

"I-I know, but...I almost did... _he_ almost...I-I didn't know you were there at first..."

"What? Who are you talking about?"

"B-Biff...when w-we were on the roof of the casino and I got away in the DeLorean...h-he was going to shoot me...just like my d-dad..." He burst into tears, letting Doc lean in, wrapping his arms around the 17-year-old. Doc listened to the worst parts, to the nightmares, the alternate Biff Tannen being his step-father, his own father being killed, Doc dying before his eyes, being afraid he couldn't love the new version of his family (he barely cared about the previous version), his fears about ceasing to exist at any possible time, due to his parent's young age. With each revelation, he was comforted, his fears abated, if only slightly.

When he had spent his tears, finishing off the stories, Marty felt a type peace within himself. It felt as though a burden had been lifted from his chest, as though he could begin to move on, now that he had revealed to the world his fears and traumatizing memories. He wouldn't ever forget them and would even dwell on them for quite awhile, but he had Doc to help begin the process. With this thought, he glanced over Doc's shoulder, at the unconscious bul-teenager, wondering if Biff had wanted the peace he felt, to be free from his own memories. Perhaps when he was younger, he had wished for someone to comfort him, when his mother wasn't around, and he and to deal with his drunk father. Marty hadn't spent much time suffering though, and perhaps it was too late for the Tannen. Maybe it wasn't though, that was all was needed, to prevent Biff Tannen from becoming who he was, in either version of 1985.

 _~December 3rd, 1955~_

"Doc, I don't understand this part." Marty called out, pointing at a paragraph in the textbook his friend had given him. He was at the kitchen table, puzzling over what he was reading at the moment, while the scientist made breakfast. The morning after Marty had recused Biff, (and with a good night's sleep) he decided he needed to understand how exactly the Flux Capacitor would operate, and needed to read up on certain topics to do so. It had been proven to be difficult to understand so far, but he knew needed to, if he wanted to speed up building the time machine. Plus, it passed the time, as he waited for the other teenager to wake up.

Doc appeared behind him, reading over his shoulder, before responding. "Oh, the ampere is that constant current which, if maintained in two straight parallel conductors of infinite length, of negligible circular cross-section, and placed 1 meter apart in vacuum, would produce between these conductors a force equal to 2 x 10–7 newton per meter of length."

"...yeah, but what _does_ that mean?"

"It's the most basic measurement of 'electrical currents'. Electrical currents are flows of electric charge. An ampere is roughly equivalent to the current of energy produced by a single volt. It's like the amount of electricity flowing through a wire."

"What's a volt?"

"A single volt, is a part of an entire voltage. Voltages causes electrons to move in-between atoms."

"And, what are electrons, again? I think I heard that in Chemistry, but I don't really know."

"I'm quite certain you have. An electron is the negatively charged particles of an atom."

"Ok, so an ampere is a flow of electric charge. The electric charge is how much energy is produced by a single volt and just one volt, is a part of the entire voltage. Voltages are what move electrons, which are negative particles of an atom, from one atom to another. Does that sound right?"

Doc nodded. "Yes, it does, very good, Marty."

"Ok, I guess that makes sense. There's so much in here though, that my head is starting to hurt."

"Yes, there is much to cover, when it comes to energy. Perhaps you should take a break."

He slammed the textbook shut, causing the chair to skid across the tile, as he stood. "Yeah...I haven't taken a shower since the day before yesterday, so I guess I could go do that."

"Alright. Breakfast should be done by then."

The 17-year-old bobbed his head up and down. As he headed out from the kitchen, he passed by the living room, and peeked his head into the room. Biff's mouth hung open, a snore heard to his ears. He cringed, wondering how Gertrude Tannen could stand that noise echoing throughout her own household for the years she had taken care of him. He briefly wondered how Irving Tannen had as well, before realizing he probably hadn't. Biff might have woken to bottles being thrown at him, simply for snoring in his sleep. He gulped at the thought, wondering how the teenager had been able to keep himself together. Marty hadn't thought about it until now, but perhaps his bullying was an effort to keep himself together. Perhaps inflicting pain on others, as his father had done to him, kept himself together. "Where...I...?"

He noticed the snoring had ceased, replaced by grumbling confusion. He shifted, then his eyes widened. Marty knew he probably twisted his shoulder in a way that didn't agree with him and now felt the bruising on his left shoulder. His face grimaced, reaching up to the bandages wrapped around his head. Doc had wiped the blood and glass from his hair last, even removing a few pieces stuck on the surface of the skin underneath his hair. Doc said the impact had been the worst, while the pieces of glass were small and didn't pierce deeply. Biff had also been revealed to indeed have an concussion, evident when Doc raised one of his eyelids, to check his pupils, discovering how they had dilated. "Uh, my uncle's house."

The teenager had cautiously approached the Tannen, taking note of the sluggish movement of his head. He had a feeling this encounter would end rather explosively, though was genuinely surprised, when Biff simply blinked at him. "Oh..."

"You kinda have a concussion, or at least that's what my uncle said."

"...I think I'm gonna..." He frowned, gulping and shuddering.

"Oh, shit, uh, hold on," Marty immediately knew what Biff was about to do and rushed off from the room. Doc was startled when Marty burst into the kitchen, nearly dropping his spatula. As Marty flung open the cabinets, digging through them, he received a questioning look. "Doc, where's that bucket I brought back from the school?!"

"The cabinet to your left. May I ask why?"

Marty snatched the handle of the one to his left, flinging it open, and locating the bucket. He swiped it up, sprinting from the room, back to where Biff was. The 17-year-old observed the trembling hand covering Biff's mouth and his eyes squeezed shut. Doc appeared from behind him, as Marty awkwardly approached Biff, handing the bucket to him. "I got, uh, a bucket, just in case, you know."

The hand blindly reached for the bucket, before he leaned over, and vomited into the bucket provided. Both Doc and Marty appeared disgusted by the action. After a few more seconds of retching, Biff dropped the bucket to the floor. Biff closed his eyes, once again feeling the bandage around his head. He touched the back of his head, frowning. "What...is this?"

"My uncle sorta, uh, wrapped your head up. Do you remember what happened?"

"I...Daddy got mad, again...He..." Marty appeared bewildered at the name, while Doc raised an eyebrow. "No...Daddy is...my dad...didn't like me saying..."

"Saying what?" Doc spoke up, causing Biff's eyes to snap open.

"...you're...Brown..."

"Yes, I am. I don't believe we've had a former meeting. I'm Doctor Emmett L. Brown and I-" He was interrupted mid-sentence.

"Get...the hell...away..." He swatted his uninjured arm in Doc's direction, closing his eyes once more. "Where...am...?"

Marty frowned. "My uncle's house. Are you...uh, ok?"

"Marty, it's his concussion. He may be confused, due to the minor damage to his head." Doc explained to his younger friend.

"...where's...Grandma?" Biff muttered from the couch.

"I believe your grandmother is back at her house. Marty brought you here though, since your father was inside."

"...she dead yet?"

Doc and Marty exchanged a look, before Marty answered. "Uh, I don't think so?"

"Course that...old hag...isn't..." He mumbled and shifted to relive pressure off of his aching shoulder. "How many...bottles?"

"The one's you were hit with?" Doc questioned to dazed Tannen.

"...no, butthead...that one's that I...ate..." He sarcastically replied.

"I wouldn't know the answer to that, I'm afraid."

"What...are you doing here...Klein?"

"I go by Brown now...Doc is my uncle," The brunet didn't receive a reply to this and the pair realized Biff had fallen back asleep. Doc sighed, picking up the bucket, and grimacing at it's contents. "Doc, this is weird. He was acting like...I don't know."

"I don't know a whole lot about concussions, but I believe a change in behavior is common. He might have been confused by his surroundings. I didn't think his concussion would be bad, but judging by his actions, I think this warrants the care of a medical doctor."

Marty ran a hand through his hair, knowing the scientist was right. He had been hesitant about Doc taking the other teenager, simply due to his reaction, but he was obviously out of it too much to notice that he was in the rumored to be insane doctor and animal murderer's household. After Doc had heard the details of the time traveling adventure Marty had went on, they decided they needed to assist Biff, for the better. The behavior he presented though, officiated them interfering with the timeline though. "Yeah, ok."

"Could you assist me in loading him into the car then?" Doc asked, before frowning down at the bucket. "Of course, after I clean this out."

Marty bit his bottom lips, staring at the unconscious Tannen. "Doc, how much do you think this will change the timeline?"

Doc glanced out his window, observing the swirling snow beginning to fall from above, increasing the amount building up on the surrounding land. His grass had been buried nearly two weeks ago by the blanket of snow, icicles formed from the frigid air. The trees had lost their leaves, bare for the winter. In the distance, the forest of pine tree held the soft snow, the only plant life thriving in the weather. It had been a day such as this one, that he had left his own house, when he was 13-years-old, to go to the university. It also been a day such as this, that he had seen his parents last. Perhaps it was a day such as this, another young individual would have their life changed as well. "I simply don't know, Marty."

 _End Chapter 7_

 **I apologize for the slightly late update for the week, but I've been sick the past few days, which is rare for me. I've been running a fever today, so this chapter may seem different than how I usually write. I kept reading over it and finding something off, though I can't tell exactly what. Next week's chapter will also be late, due to my finals (I should of started final essays already, but haven't able to do much with the fever I was running). After next week though, I have a month off from college, so all I will have to focus on is work and this story. Notes for this chapter include the following: I felt as though Marty's main issue, was how he was bottling up the memories of what happened, and needed to confine with someone about his fears. He's obviously not quite healed, but he now knows he can begin to move on from his nightmares. An ampere is part of the International System of Units, which makes up several components of energy, such as moles and kilograms. I tried to explain as best as I could what it was, but if you don't quite understand, I apologize. How the Flux Capacitor works is a mystery, so I might simply create an explanation behind it. Those with concussions can have concussions, slight shifts in personality (which is why Biff didn't act as angry as he could have been about being recused by Marty), confusion, and sluggishness. I want to personally thank you all for your favorites, follows, and reviews!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8  
_

 **Disclaimer:** ** **Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale own** Back to the Future, not me.**

 _~December 3rd, 1955~_

"It seems as though the snow is quickly progressing into a storm," Doc muttered from his position at the window, the snow rapidly descending to the mounds of already present on his property. As the wind howled, pressing up against the walls of the mansion, Doc pulled the curtains closed. He turned to his friend, observing the concerned expression he had. "I thought we could of taken him to the hospital tonight, but perhaps doing so in the morning would be best, Marty."

"Is he gonna be ok overnight?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine. I'll check on him later in the n-" The scientist was cut off by the doorbell ringing, producing a frown from him. "I wonder who could possibly be out in this weather?"

He exited the room, leaving behind Marty with the unconscious Tannen. After briefly glancing over at the other, he followed his friend, a deep gnawing in the pit of his stomach. The door was swung open, the wind louder than before, and snow drifted into the building. The 17-year-old froze, when Irving Tannen was revealed to be in the doorway, a bulky trench coat over his frame, looming over Doc. The blond stepped back a few feet, visibly grimacing. Marty didn't need to step closer, to know that he had an air of alcohol on him, likely overwhelming to the senses. Doc cleared his throat, as the taller man's eyes roved around the room behind Doc. "Irving Tannen. What a surprise."

"W-Where is he?" He slurred out.

"Whom are you speaking of?" The scientist replied, calm in the face of the drunken abuser.

"Y-You know damn well who, Brown. Where my son be?" He stepped over the threshold of the mansion, clearly agitated.

"Your son isn't here, Irving."

"D-Don't you call me by my name! Where the hell is he?!" He bellowed, spit flying from his lips, causing Doc to flinch.

Marty's knees shook, as the Texan staggered towards him, glaring. Doc was by his side in an instant, partially standing in front of Marty. His calm demeanor melting into one of fierce protectiveness. "Tannen, I would advise you to step away from my nephew."

"I-I saw you with him. Where's my boy?" He breathed in Marty's direction, the 17-year-old feeling ill at the distant smell of alcohol.

"Tannen, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Doc smoothly interrupted, noticing Marty's pallor, and trembling knees.

"I-I want my son, now, Brown! I know you have him!" He begin to step towards the living room, yet was blocked by the scientist. Doc crossed his arms over his chest, drawing himself upwards, in order to appear larger than he was. He didn't flinch this time, when spit was flung into his face by the yelling. "Get outta the way, Brown!"

"This is my household, Tannen, and I demand you leave the premises this instant!" Doc had raised his voice and Marty knew he was beginning to grow irritated.

Irving's shoulders heaved, wavering in place momentarily, before pointing his fingers at the other man. "I'll call the cops on your ass, if you don't give back my son. He's 15-years-old and I'm his father!"

"H-He's seventeen," Marty finally found his voice, Irving's head snapping towards him. He paled further, gulping at the sight, before hesitantly continuing on to defend the bully. "Y-You don't even know his age."

Irving advanced on him, pointing the finger at his face. "Y-You're a smart ass, just like my son."

"Irving, my father owned quite a few guns, and if you don't back off, you're going to come face-to-face with one." The blond threatened, approaching him.

"Brown, I have a shotgun myself, from my grandfather, and I'm sure I can reach for my pocket quicker than you."

Marty's eyes widened, the image of Doc being shot at by the terrorists. His friend didn't appear frightened though, stepping closer, and hissing at the older Tannen. "If you pull out that weapon, the neighbors will inform the police of the noise, and be here in an instant."

His eyes flickered between the pair, appearing to contemplate the words spoken to him. The hand that been hovering over his trench coat, dropped, before nodding to himself. "A-Alright...I'm going...I'm going...you tell that little shit though, that it's over. He can't return to _my_ house, see his grandmother ever again, or have any of his stuff back. His room is in _my_ house, so anything in there is now _mine_ , you hear me?"

Doc didn't answer the question, simply stared him down. "Tannen, I would appreciate it if you removed yourself from my property now."

Irving glared hatefully at him, before heading back to the front door. He's eyes twitched towards the living room, before he slammed the front door shut behind himself, heading off in a drunken weave to his vehicle parked sideways in the driveway. He nearly tripped over a mound of snow, before ripping open the door, and seating himself inside. After a beat, he zoomed off into the storm, disappearing through the snow. Marty visibly relaxed and Doc placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright, Marty?"

"Uh...yeah...just..." His knees felt weak, nearly collapsing beneath him. "I-I need to sit..."

"You look pale. Here, let me take you to the kitchen an-" Doc reached out and gripped onto his arm. He frowned, before reaching out another hand to touch his forehead. "Marty, you feel warm. Are you alright?"

"I-I don't know...kinda feel weak, you know?" The brunet mumbled, as the scientist guided him to the kitchen, and sat him at the table.

"How long have you felt like this?"

"Not really long...just felt sorta...off today, but I don't feel that bad right now. I don't really feel hot or cold right."

"You must be in the beginning stages then. Perhaps you should have some medicine before going to bed."

"Sure...is...do you think his dad is gonna come back tonight?"

"I hope not, but to be safe I'm going to lock the doors tonight."

Marty's eyes widened. "Wait, you haven't been locking your doors?"

"No, I don't see a reason to. The rate of robbery is quite low in Hill Valley and many are hesitant to approach the property," The image of the newspaper article he had seen in Doc's garage in the future came to mind. The burnt remains of the mansion, surrounded by the firefighters haunted him. Doc had explained he had accidentally done it himself, yet Marty believed someone else had sent fire instead. He had seen it enough times though, to know it occurred August 2nd of 1962. Should he tell Doc? "Marty?"

He shook away the thoughts. "Doc, can you just start locking the doors all the time now?"

"I suppose if it makes you feel better, Marty. I think for now though, you should head off to bed."

"Yeah...ok..." He glanced back to the living room, before allowing his best friend to guide him to his bedroom.

 _~December 4th, 1955~_

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!"

Marty was jolted awake, with a gasp. He blinked in confusion, at the distant yelling, and Doc's slightly raised voice answering. The brunet shivered, a chill running down his spine. He attempted to sit up, unfortunately overcome with a wave of dizziness. He flopped his head back down onto the bed beneath him, squeezing his eyes shut. He had to be running a fever by now, considering the odd change in temperature. He needed to assist the scientist though with his struggle of Biff Tannen. He slowly sat up this time, swinging his feet over the edge. He rested his face into his hands, with a groan. "Jesus..."

The brunet finally stood, struggling to remain standing, as he staggered into the hallway. He used the walls to steady himself, nearly tripping over his own two feet. Doc's voice cleared up significantly, sounding desperate. "Please, I am not here to injure you any furth-"

"I KNOW WHAT YOU DO! YOU KILL PEOPLE AND THEN Y-"

"Would you shut up already, Biff?" Marty announced his presence, as he entered the room, revealing the arguing pair.

Biff, who had been pushed up against the fireplace, held the side table, the legs aimed at Doc. He had a face of guarded anger, clearly wary of the blond in front of him. The scientist had his hands held in a placating gesture, appearing quite alarmed at the teenager's behavior. When Marty had entered though, Biff dangerously narrowed his eyes and Doc had immediately been at Marty's side, noticing his weakening stance. "Marty!"

A hand reached out for his shoulder in concern, but he swatted it away. "I'm fine, Doc."

"Marty, you don't look f-"

"Can you put that down?" The brunet pointed at the side table, rolling his eyes at the irked expression he received. "I already told you, Biff, I'm not scared of you."

"I'm gonna make you scared of me in a second, butthol-" Biff threatened, his voice slurred from his concussion.

"Yeah, ok, just put it down alright?"

"I'm not gonna let you tell me what to d-"

"Your dad came by." Marty interrupted, as Biff's arm muscles twitched, as though he was preparing to throw it in their direction.

The bully froze, expression melting to an apprehensive one. Marty knew those words would cease any violent tendencies for the moment, the side table being dropped onto it's side. Doc cringed, as a crack echoed into the room, though he refrained from speaking a word about it. Biff gulped, eyes unfocused, as he muttered to Marty. "...what'd he want?"

"You wanted you back," Doc answered, as Marty felt dizziness return to his senses. "I convinced him not to though."

His eyes darted around, lingering on Marty for a moment, before making contact with Doc's. "W-What'd you want from me?"

"I, personally, don't want anything from you. Marty, on the other hand, thought it to be to your benefit, no longer remain in that household," Doc cautiously explained, frowning as Marty leaned further onto the wall. "Are you alright, Marty?"

"Yeah...just not feeling so hot, you know..."

"What's wrong with _you_?" Biff caught his attention, frowning in confusion at the pale teenager.

"Nothing's wrong," Marty waved a hand in his direction, beginning to straighten himself up as the dizziness passed. "Doc, when are we going?"

"Going? Going where?" Though Biff didn't sounded panicked, his face betrayed him, suspicion and nerves evident on his face.

"The hospital. As I was attempting to explain earlier, you have a concussion, which might be more serious than originally thought to be. We don't mean you any harm and only wish to give you the help you need."

"I don't need any help, especially from some crazy murderer!"

"Oh, would you stop with the whole murderer shit already? It's giving me a headache!" Marty sighed out, throwing his hands into the air. "Look, Doc isn't a murderer. He's never killed anyone before, ok? Those weird noises everyone hears from the house? They're from the woods! I've been over there before and all sorts of weird shit! The animals that go missing? Into the woods! I'm getting sick and tired of all this!"

"Marty, I believe you sho-" Doc began, disapproving of his rising tone of voice.

"No, I'm tired of all this damn crap. You just stand there and let people mock you! You've down that for as long as I've known you! Stop letting people walk all over you, Doc!" The teenager shouted, as Doc appeared shocked at his outburst.

"...perhaps we should leave this for a more private moment, my friend." Doc whispered, as he leaned in closer to Marty, side glancing at the slightly nervous bully beside them.

Marty blinked a few times, before nodding, as he realized he might accidentally reveal information on the future. "Yeah, ok..."

"Buford," The blond turned to the other teenager, the guarded expression immediately returning. "I need to know if we would to like accept our offer of help or not. You don't owe myself or Marty for accepting it and I'll understand if you deny it...but..."

"Your...dad says he doesn't want you around anymore and everything you have in that house isn't your's any more." Marty bluntly told him, crossing his arms over his chest, and leaning his back against the wall.

"Yeah, well that doesn't surprise me..." Biff muttered to himself with a scowl, before his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"What?" Marty asked, confused by his expression.

He shook his head. "Nothing and I don't need your help! I can take care of myself and don't need any crazy doctor and stupid butthead to do anything for me!"

Doc sighed. "Very well...may I at least offer a ride to the hospital for you? If you can't think of any cover stories, I can produce one for you. Perhaps I could simply explain a homeless man attacked you for some spare change or any other excuse for your injuries."

"I don't need to go to the hos-!" Biff started, as he begun to stand, before wavering dangerously in place. Doc immediately reached out, steadying by the shoulder, as the bully groaned, reaching up to touch his head. "Ughh..."

"I believe you do need a hospital and I'm more than willing to provide a ride. I could even drop you off in the parking lot, if you don't want to be seen near me."

He jerked his shoulder away, stalking sluggishly towards the front door. "Whatever..."

Doc simply sighed at the behavior, while Marty rolled his eyes.

 _~BTTF~_

As the scientist drove down the abandoned streets in the early morning hours, heading towards the hospital, Bing Crosby singing "White Christmas" echoed softly through the confided space. Biff moodily crossed his arms over his chest, laid out in the back, and Marty leaned his face up against the window, peering out in the gently snowing town. Doc glanced to the rear view mirror to the bully, finding his eyes glaring directly at him in the reflection, before returning to watching the road in front of him. It hadn't occurred to him up until the outburst, that Marty had changed slightly from when he first met him. There had been a depressive bout he had endured, but underneath that Marty seemed to be a recognizably positive individual. Doc had barely noticed the change though, as if it had been a gradual event, realizing the teenager's positivity seemed faded. Perhaps it was simply living in a different time period was what was producing the change in his friend. "We should be arriving soon."

Biff grunted from the back, mouth set in a deepened scowl, one Doc suspected was partially due to the headache he had been supporting, since he had awoken. Marty shifted his face, pressed up against the window, cheeks tinted a rosy color from his fever. The scientist frowned at the discomfort on Marty's face. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah...just feel sorta hot." He muttered.

"I would assume so. I believe your fever is rising. Perhaps we should bring you in as well."

"You better not walk in with me, Brown." Biff grumbled aloud, voice beginning to slur once more.

"No, I'll be sure to enter afterwards." Doc sighed out.

"Ah, Doc, I don't need to go in. It's just a cold, you know? I can just take some medicine by at the mansion and I'll be as good as new tomorrow."

"Marty, perhaps I should bring you in, just in case."

"No, seriously, I'm fine."

"If you insist...Buford, I'll be certain drop you off at the edge of the parking lot, to be discrete."

"Why the hell do you keep calling me that?" He slouched further into the seat, as though he wanted to disappear from the vehicle entirely.

Doc blinked in surprise. "That is your name, isn't it? Have I been calling you the wrong one?"

"Nobody but my grandma calls me that. I don't like that nam..." He trailed off, frowning.

"Bu-Biff?"

"...did...did _he_ mention anything about my grandma?" Biff hesitantly mumbled, the reflection showing his eyes downcast.

"Um...no, I'm afraid not...is...is anything the matter?"

"No...just...uh...she's sorta not doing so...never mind, whatever, it's not important." He scowled once more, eyes shifting to the window.

"Is she...?" Marty mumbled, blearily.

Biff's head snapped back to the front, eyes narrowing. "What'd you say, butthead?"

"Is she...you know, starting to get all old and...?" Marty twisted his head around, chocolate brown eyes making contact with the bully's sky blue ones.

"That's not any of your business, so why don't you trap your zip."

"Zip your trap." The brunet rolled his eyes, correcting the other teenager.

"What?"

"It's zip your trap, not trap your zip."

"...whatever, Brown." He went back to slouching into the seat.

Doc found his lips twitch upwards momentarily at the exchange.

 _~BTTF~_

As they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, Doc began to head towards a parking space, slush snow sliding in front of his wheels. He pressed softly on the breaks, his attention being brought to the figure lingering a few paces away from the entrance of the hospital. The individual smoked a cigarette, puffs of smoke looming through the air, as he made eye contact with the scientist. His eyes narrowed dangerously, as though he planned on doing deeds one could only imagine. As he threw down his cigarette, crushing it underneath one of his boots, Doc began to turn the car around. Marty's confused and weak voice wavered into his ears. "Doc?"

"Yes, Marty?" He managed to keep his voice remaining steady, yet his hands clenched at the steering wheel.

"What's wrong?" His friend immediately noticed his nervous reaction.

"Where the hell are you taking me?" Biff's reflection in the rear view mirror seemed disapproving of the change that was occurring, glaring daggers at the scientist.

"Perhaps we should head to a hospital in the next town over."

"What?" The teenagers asked in unison, unable to notice they had done so, both confused by his words.

"Hill Valley doesn't have the best hospital an-"

"Drive faster," Biff's stiff voice startled him, his reflection showing twisting his head around to stare out the back window. He sounded as though he was attempting to quell his own emotions, though Doc wasn't confident as to why. "Right now."

Doc pressed on the pedal, the car speeding up quite a bit, while he glanced into the rear view mirror. A 1951 Hudson Hornet was in the distance, rapidly approaching the trio, with Irving Tannen scowling furiously at them from the driver's seat. His heart rate picked up, aware that what would occur would possibly cause an accident. Biff's voice shook slightly, though his face betrayed no emotion. "...he's not going to hesitate to ram the back of your car, Brown."

"Wait, is that your dad?!" Marty cried out, eyes wide in alarm.

"Ram my vehicle?!" Doc exclaimed, his hands tightened further onto the steering wheel.

"Just drive faster, Brown!" The bully hissed, twisting his head to view his father once more.

"I'm nearly at the limit the vehicle allows!"

"Go back to your mansion then." Doc wasn't sure how the younger Tannen seemed to remain calm in the situation, despite the fact that Irving Tannen's car tailgated closely to their own.

"We're on the opposite side of tow-!"

"JUST DRIVE THIS PIECE OF SHIT FASTER!" Biff finally exploded, causing both Marty and Doc to startle. The entire vehicle lurched forward, as the front of Irving's vehicle pressed against the bummer. Doc pressed it to the limit, the bummer continuing to touch them, as a rumbling was heard from their engine. As he barreled down a road, leading to main street, another vehicle from a neighborhood turned directly in front of them. The scientist swerved in a desperate hope to avoid a collison, the other vehicle slamming into the back end of the Packard, and the front of Irving's vehicle. Both slid across the street, snow flung into the air, before Irving's flipped over, twice. The doubled crunch noise echoed throughout the street, as Doc's vehicle screamed out, along with Marty.

After a long moment of silence, with Doc holding the wheel with trembling hands and Marty clinging to his seat for dear life, they turned to the back seat. Biff was on the opposite end of the back seat, lifting his own head away from the window. He rubbed at his forehead, the window with a hairline fracture spread across it, though not shattered. Biff had obviously hit his head roughly against the window, worsening his concussion."W-Wha...I..."

"A-Are you ok?" Marty's voice shook, leaning towards the back seat. He winced, before grasping at his chest, a bout of pain overwhelming momentarily. He breathed deeply, shuddering at the pain, though Doc was focused too much on the other passenger to notice.

"My..h-head sorta..." Biff groaned, before shaking it. "I...d-don't really know..."

"I-I'm going to check on the other passengers. Please, stay here. You might be more injured than you think and I need to see if the others need any assistance. Someone must of notified the police by now of our accident," Doc announced, as he unbuckled himself. The teenagers mumbled out agreement, both laying back in their seats. He exited the vehicle, staring at the rather larger dent on the side of his Packard the paint chipped off. He cursed his luck, though he supposed the cost wouldn't be an issue, considering the amount of money he had. Biff stared at him through the window, no, beyond him to the rest of the wreckage. Doc turned around, realizing what he was staring at. "Great Scott..."

Irving Tannen's car laid upside down, the windows shattered and glass spread out across the street. One of the tires was missing, while another hung limply from the rim. As he approached, he crouched down, to peer inside of the window. A hand hung limply in his view, a steady stream of blood oozing down. As he hung his head lower, face nearly touching the road, the face of a familiar Texan was revealed. He stared at the slightly opened eyes, staring into nothingness, the distant sound of sirens was heard. From the gruesome injury, part of his face crushed in, Doc knew what had occurred. He gulped down the ill feeling in his stomach, averting his eyes from the sickening sight. Irving Tannen was dead. He moved on to the other vehicle, on it's side, three of it's wheels continuing to slowly spin. He peered through the windshield, freezing in place. Samuel Baines, father of Lorraine Baines, was in the driver's seat, eyes wide, and unblinking at him. Sam Baines was also dead.

 _~December 6th, 1955~_

"When I was five, my grandpa brought us to the zoo, an, uh, ha, he sorta accidentally dropped me in the Ostrich exhibit and, uh, haha...ha...mom went off on him, after the zoo keepers got me out. B-But, the best part, was that he insisted it had been my dad's fault...but, haha, my dad was with Linda, near the panda exhibit. Mom...M-Mom thought he had done it anyways!" Marty laughed out, as Doc smiled at the story of Samuel Baines.

The laughter died off, Marty's face morphing into a frown. "It's...only been two days, and I c-can't remember his face now."

Doc sighed, noticing his friend's positivity fading. "Marty...due to...the passing of your grandfather, you would never met him in the future, thus your memories of the man simply fade from time itself. You might not even remember having a grandfather, by the end of the day. It's known as the ripple effect. A certain event results in a spread of further effects, the source leading back to the first event. In this case, the first event would be your arrival in 1955."

The 17-year-old buried his face in the pillow, breathing deeply. His voice came out muffled, though the he could be heard still "Doc was right...he's always right...I should of never bought that sports almanac..."

"Marty, we've already been through this: this is _not_ your fault. We've gone through this several times now. You couldn't of possibly foreseen what your time travel trip would result in. You didn't kill your grandfather. That was the result of the selfish actions of another. You were doing what you felt was right and I am...proud of your decision to help another that needed it."

Marty appeared surprised at the 'proud' aspect, though his face fell. "Why do I feel so bad then? I feel like everything is wrong."

"That might just be your fever and fractured ribs talking."

"It's not...it's not..." Marty mumbled, his hand reaching down to stroke the tender area on his chest.

The scientist adjusted his seat, the skidding noise echoing around in the hospital room. "Marty, I don't...my future self, I feel as though I might of berated you too much on that almanac. Perhaps I partially blamed you, but your only 17-years-old and couldn't possibly know any better. I'm the one at fault, for creating a time machine in the first place."

"What? Doc, it ain't your fa-"

Doc raised a hand, silencing his friend. "My future self is to blame for the events that have befallen you. That is a fact, that I will not deny, nor should you. Irving Tannen wasn't a good man and though I feel horrible that this had to end the way it did, Buford Tannen is going to be in a better location thanks to your actions."

Marty gulped at the words, before hesitantly nodding. "O-Ok...wait, 'better location'?"

"Yes,Gertrude Tannen isn't in any condition to take care of him, thus the doctors informed me he would likely be a ward of the state of California, until he turns 18-years-old next March."

"What...What's wrong with her?"

"They believe she's had a type of cancer, that had been untreated for a few years now. Buford informed them that she has been vomiting blood for at least five years, though she never wanted medical treatment for the issues she experienced. The doctors say she has a few days at the most. That's all I know as of right now."

"Oh...What about Biff?"

"The doctors informed me Buford was beginning to get better and he was lucky hitting his head a second time as hard as he didn't cause any permanent damage. He seemed confused when I went to visit, though he did recognize me. I attempted to be as non-threatening as possible, though he remains wary of my presence. He hasn't been informed about his father quite yet."

"How's my...Lorraine doing?"

"I haven't gone to see the Baines, but I know the funereal for Samuel is in two days. Lorraine hasn't dropped in for a visit, but George did yesterday, and had conveyed to me how upset she's been. You were sleeping when he came by, so he wanted me to tell you he said 'hi'."

Marty sighed aloud, imagining what a state his mother was in at the moment. He knew it was imperative to visit her as soon as possible. "When do I get out?"

"The doctors say in you can leave tomorrow, though you have to have bed rest for a couple of day. You likely won't go to school for the remainder of this week."

"Can I see Biff?"

The scientist frowned, shaking his head. "Marty, your ribs are currently in a tender state and the fever is sti-"

"Please, Doc? I'll take the wheelchair and not move much."

"Marty-"

"Please?"

Doc sighed. "Oh, alright..."

As Doc assisted him in standing, he brought a wheelchair up behind him, and settled him into it. Marty adjusted his stance, feeling a sting of pain around his chest, before shifting in a position that lessened the physical burden he felt. The brunet was wheeled down the hallways, before being led into Biff Tannen's room. He laid out across the bed, his head bandaged, and clad in a hospital gown, just as Marty was. His arms were crossed over his chest, eyes observing the scenery outside. Biff blinked, twisting his head to stare at them, before pushing himself up into a sitting position. "What do you want?"

Doc bit his lip at the scowl he received, before pushing Marty closer to the bed. "Doc, can we be alone for a second?"

"Of course, Marty." Doc immediately answered, aware that Biff continued to be highly distrust of him. He approached the doorway, glancing briefly at the pair of teenagers, before exiting, the door shutting behind him.

"So, does your head hurt still?" He witnessed Biff's jaw beginning to clench, twitching minutely, before he glanced away from Marty's eyes. "You don't wanna talk then?"

"...not to a butthead like you, Brown."

Marty bit his lip, before continuing on. "You upset about your...dad?"

Biff's shoulder's stiffened at the mention of Irving Tannen, though no reply was heard. He decided to approach from another angle instead. "Did you know your grandma is here?"

When he hadn't received an answer once more, he attempted yet another angel, one that caused himself guilt. "Lorraine's... d-dad was in the other car."

Biff's head snapped back to him, genuine surprise scrawled across his face. "What?"

"H-He was in the other car, the one that pulled out of the neighborhood in front of us...h-he's...dead."

The bully appeared unnaturally apprehensive, biting his lip. "Is she...doing ok?"

"I don't really know. George-McFly-came by and told Doc she wasn't doing too hot, you know? She hasn't come to see me, so I'm guessing she either really doesn't actually like me or she's really upset about her dad. I didn't really know that you cared though, especially after the way you've treated her."

The teenager expected an outburst of anger at the words, though Biff simply averted his eyes, stunning him. He released a stream of mumbles, barely heard in the silent hospital room."I used to not...just like... when I thought I didn't really care about my grand...ma..."

Marty is surprised by the confession. "Uh, I-I heard she isn't doing good right now."

"Drop it." Biff muttered, scowling furiously at the wall in front of him.

The 17-year-old thought it was wise to heed the words and finally approached the dangerous territory he had been avoiding since the beginning of the conversation. "Did...anyone tell you what happened to your dad?"

"What, he in the hospital too, all beat up from the car rolling over?"

"No, uh...he's dead."

Biff's jaw trembled, eyebrows furrowing furiously, before hissing out a reply. "...that _asshole_ deserved it."

"You don't care?" Marty questioned, confused by the reaction.

"I stopped caring about him a long time ago."

"Was it when...he started...hurting you?" His voice trailed off into a whisper towards the end.

"..."

"Are you...?"

"What?"

"I kinda just wanna know if you're still thinking about beating me up and all that shit?"

"...I don't know...I don't know about anything anymore." Biff had a tone of confliction to him, as though he couldn't decide what he wanted to do after the events of today. He's eyes appeared distant, hands squeezing into trembling fists.

"Are you ok?"

"No." He tonelessly answered.

"You wanna talk about anything else?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Get out." Biff mumbled rolling over and burying his face into the pillow.

Marty released a sigh, aware the conversation had officially ended. He twisted his head, calling over his shoulder to the shut door. "Doc?"

The door opened a moment later, the scientist's head peeking in. "Yes?"

"Can you take me back to my room now?"

"Of course." Doc glanced over at the back of the younger Tannen, before he wheeled Marty out, both unaware of the lone tear that rolled down Biff's cheek.

 _End Chapter 7_

 **I apologize for the wait between each update, but to be honest I became burnt out from all the writing I did last semester. I decided to take a minor break from writing as a whole, but now I'm back. Notes for this chapter include the following: Irving Tannen backed off at the threat of the police, but that didn't mean he was going to give up that easy. He knew they would head for the hospital eventually and waited for their arrival. Doc knew that wouldn't end well, so he fled, though Irving decided to go after them anyways. Biff knew from personal experience the lengths the man would go to, in order to get what he wanted. The decision to kill of Sam Baines, was only to further show the side effects of time travel, and not out of spite of the character. I feel as though, after the events that had occurred, Biff would begin to doubt his own behavior, especially the entire bullying aspect. He's at the point, that he doesn't care if anyone knows what he's thinking. I hope you all have had a happy New Year so far and I'll be back soon with another update!  
**

 **Preview:**

"W-Why did he have to die?" Lorraine sobbed, wiping her face with a moist tissue.

"Lorraine..." Marty reached out for her shoulder, to comfort his broken hearted mother, but she jerked away from his touch.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9  
_

 **Disclaimer:** ** **Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale own** Back to the Future, not me.**

 _~December 6th, 1955~_

Later in the day, Marty was visited by George, startling him at his stance. Before, his father had been slightly hunched over and fidgeted awkwardly. This version of him though, stood proudly, and was quite still. He seemed elated to know Marty was awake though, the slight curve of his mouth indicating he was pleased. As he entered the room, Marty wondered when he had last had a conversation with his father. It had to been over two and a half weeks. It seemed though, his worst fears had occurred and George McFly had let the attention get to his head. Lorraine had mentioned a few times during lunch how she hardly seen her boyfriend and Marty had been irked at this. He had been thinking of speaking to him about the matter, much as he did with his mother, but he had been distracted by the Biff Tannen situation. "I'm glad you're awake."

"Are you?" Marty coldly asked, not returning the smile.

The words seemed to return a bit of George's original personality to return, as his fingers began to twitch nervously. "Uh...I...I know I let all...my classmate's attention get to me...but, uh...well, I understand I haven't been too nice to you...or Lorraine for that matter."

"She told me everyday at lunch, that she missed you." Marty answered, his voice continuing to be distant, though he wasn't as upset as before. At least George was aware of his mistake and possibly might learn from it.

"I...I know...she...the moment I heard what happened about Mr. Baines I...I came over to her house. S-She was awfully upset, but...she still is." He ran his hands through his hair, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

Marty's anger softened out completely and he nodded. "Yeah, I heard."

"The, uh, funereal is next week, if you want to come."

"Yeah, of course I will. I should be ok by then. I'm still running a fever right now."

"Are you alright? Your uncle mentioned you've been running one for a few days now."

"I just got sick...and well, I don't know. I guess I still am. It's kinda weird though, because when I get sick usually it lasts for like only a day." He frowned, as he thought about the state he was in. He couldn't quite explain why his fever was still present. It had risen after the conversation with Biff, but had lowered about an hour before. Doc had informed when that it was doing so when he was unconscious. He had accounted to the stress he's been under since arriving in the time period.

"Well, you look fine now. It might go away soon then."

"Yeah, probably."

George glanced down at his wrist watch. "I should go. I told Lorraine I'll stop by...Marty, don't be insulted that she hasn't come by."

"No, really, I'm not. I'm not dead, so I understand...I'll just come and she her when I get out. I think they said I will tomorrow."

"Well, alright. I'll see you around, Marty."

"Ok..." He observed his father leaving the room, beginning to feel unusually chilled. He released a sigh, aware his fever was rising, again. He pulled up the covers, wincing at his ribs, before snuggling them around himself. His head pounded, a headache viciously attacking him from no where. He squeezed his eyes shut painfully, suddenly quite fatigued. He drifted off into sleep soon after.

 _~December 7th, 1955~_

He opened his eyes into the darkness, feeling as though he were not alone in the room. For a moment, he thought Doc was watching over him, until he noticed the hallway light illuminating a figure in a wheelchair. As his eyes adjusted, Marty realized it was Biff. He frowned, sitting up groggily in his bed. "What?"

After a moment of silence, the bully wheeled himself in, stopping beside his bed. In the darkness he appeared hesitant, as though he wasn't quite sure what he would say to Marty. It was an unusual face to view, considering he had received scowls most of the time from him. He thought this face was better though, than the ones full of seconds of unbridled fear he had seen a handful of times. It nearly felt as though Marty was dreaming. Biff's face morphed into a scowl, dissolving the illusion of the dream, shaking his head. He began to turn to wheelchair around, preparing to leave. The brunet didn't stop him, beginning to feel sleepy once more. Half-way to the door, the wheelchair ceased movement, though he didn't turn around. After a moment of silence was a mumbled word he was not expecting to hear. "...thanks..."

Marty laid back, shutting his eyes, and releasing a sigh as he left. "Your welcome..."

 _~BTTF~_

When the hospital released him, Doc had revealed to him that Biff had been signed out by a case worker that morning, apparently to take him to be processed in the town's orphanage. As the scientist assisted him into the vehicle he rented (the Packard was being repaired for the damage from the accident), Marty wondered if he had imagined the bully appearing in his hospital room early that morning. He didn't mention it to his friend though, opting to keep silent on the ride home. Marty wasn't exactly in a speaking mood. His eyes had wandered though, observing the scientist. The cut on his forehead didn't escape his notice. On the left side of his forehead was the the scar from the day Doc realized how time travel was possible, a barely visible slash. On the right side was a scabbed over one, thicker in width, and he knew it would be clearly visible once completely healed. He didn't quite recall Doc hitting his head or anything breaking in front of his face, though he couldn't be sure how else it had gotten there, other than the accident.

When they had arrived back at the mansion, he released a hiss of pain, as Doc laid him into the bed. The blond's eyebrows furrowed and he settled himself onto the edge of the bed. He opened his mouth several times, as though struggling to speak, before finally forming words to the frowning teenager. "When we were in that accident, all I could think about was how I had failed you, Marty."

Marty could feel the lull of sleep, the drugs in his system continuing to be heavy, yet he was able to focus on the conversation easily. "What? What're you talking about Doc?"

The scientist twiddled his thumbs, while continuing on. "When...Samuel Baines's vehicle collided with our's, directly into you, I thought you were going to be the one worst off, not Buford, and...I...Marty, I wouldn't be able to live with myself, much less talk to the you further along in this time line, if I knew you would perish during that accident."

Marty sighed. "Jesus, Doc, you were just preaching to me yesterday about how it isn't my fault, and now here you are doing what I did."

"Yes, I'm afraid that does make me a bit of a hypocrite, but...Marty, I haven't known you as long as you've known me, but you're already...very important to me and I couldn't imagine life without you now," He paused, clearly embarrassed by his words. "I apologize Marty, that came out rather...inappropriately, considering you're not actually my child, though you have expressed that you think of me as such, and it probably sounds qui-"

"Seriously, Doc? No, it wasn't 'inappropriate' or whatever. I feel the same way. You've been my best friend for four years and I can't really imagine you not being involved somehow in my life. I'm not dying anytime soon though, so you don't have to be like this. You sound way too heavy and it's starting to weird me out."

Doc smiled, realizing that perhaps his friend hadn't changed as much as he had thought. "I know I sound...'heavy' and I'll try not to do so anymore."

"Ok, good, now I'm kinda tired, so I can I go to sleep?"

"Yes, you can. Have a nice nap, Marty." Doc answered, shaking his head fondly. As he left the room, he didn't notice the tension leave Marty's body, his expression dropping from it's causal one, into one of melancholy. He hadn't told his friend that he felt...different. He felt as though he was beginning to change from these time traveling adventures and he wasn't sure he liked how he was beginning to change. Marty didn't feel...as though he could be a positive teenager any longer. He was still considered a child, yet he felt as though his mind was not the same as one. He didn't even know if he was Marty anymore.

 _~December 10th, 1955~_

On Saturday, Marty and Doc approached the the local cemetery, the pair clad in suits. Though he no longer needed assistance in walking, Marty had to keep at a slower pace, in order to avoid jostling his rib cage. By the time they had arrived, the funereal had just begun, and the only room they could find in the massive crowd was in the back row. Doc had been right about him losing memories of his grandfather, the few he had left beginning to blur in his mind. He continued to feel a sense of sadness at the memories, though not as much as before. He barely felt any grief, as he glanced around at the individuals sobbing near him, and he attempted to swallow his guilt, realizing he didn't have it in him to do the same. When he felt the had on his shoulder, he startled, glancing to his right. Doc appeared concerned, quietly asking if he was alright. "Yeah...just...I barely remember him now..."

Doc appeared sympathetic at these words, and didn't ask anything else, though he kept his hand resting upon the teenager's shoulder. As the preacher continued on he prayers for Samuel Baines, Marty shut his eyes, focusing in the final memory he had of his grandfather. It appeared to be in a haze, no words heard during it, as he it flashed through his mind. He was young, his grandfather, lifting him up, and settling him onto a swing set. He didn't know if it was the park or at his elementary school, though he supposed it didn't matter. The man began to push his swing, Marty feeling the wind glide over his face and quite content to be with his grandfather. When the preacher wrapped up the speech, individuals went up the front, near the casket, to speak finale words to the crowd about him, the first being Marty's grandmother. He noticed movement from the front, as Lorraine stood from her seat, beginning to head off towards a row of tombstones. A few members of the audience noticed, though they didn't go after her. He leaned over to the scientist, whispering. "I'll be back."

The hand slipped from his shoulder, heading after his mother, as she weaved in-between n the headstones. She paused at a particularly large tombstone, before sitting upon a ledge of it, her bottom barely fitting onto the space. Marty observed her from a few feet away, the handkerchief she held being wiped at her eyes. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, held by a white ribbon, a few strands loosely hanging out. Her dark dress hugged her figure gently, and he couldn't help but wonder if Lorraine would become his originally mother or the new one he had seen after his first time traveling adventure. He approached, grimacing as he slowly plopped down into the snow in front of her. She glanced up, not appeared surprised by his appearance, sniffling. Marty bit his lip, before speaking softly to her. "Hi."

She gulped thickly and whispered hoarsely to him. "I-I'm sorry I didn't come to visit you in the h-hospital."

"It's ok."

"Calv-"

"No, I know you were upset, so seriously, it's ok."

"...w-were you hurt b-bad?"

"No, just broke a rib or two."

"Oh...I-I'm glad you're a;right," There was a brief pause in the conversation, as the wind howled through the bare trees. Lorraine hugged her dark coat to her frame, and Marty adjusted his scarf, pulling it tighter around the exposed of his neck. "...H-He was heading to work...i-it was just a...n-normal day, you know?"

"Yeah." Marty breathed out softly.

"W-Why did he have to die?" Lorraine sobbed, wiping her face with a moist tissue.

"Lorraine..." Marty reached out for her shoulder, to comfort his broken hearted mother, but she jerked away from his touch. Lorraine's lower lip wobbled, before buried her face into her hands, moaning aloud. "Lorraine?"

"I-I...I hate him..."

He frowned. "Your dad?"

Her face abruptly jerked upwards, hoarsely choking out her words. "NO! I hate that Irving Tannen and I'm glad he's dead! He deserved it!"

The brunet swallowed thickly, before answering her, unsure if what he felt was accurate. "Yeah...h-he did...but...your dad...I-I don't think your dad would think the same thing."

Her eyes squeezed shut, slowly shaking her head. "...I-I know...I hate him though..."

This time, when he reached out to touch her shoulder, she didn't jerk away from him.

 _~December 12th, 1955~_

Marty slammed his locker shut, his schoolbooks pressed up against his chest, feeling a distant gaze on his back. Though George continued to discuss the homework from English with him, the brunet twisted his head around. Down the hallway, near the entrance of the school, stood one Biff Tannen. His eyes met Marty's briefly, before flitting away. Students, that stepped through the doorway, scattered anxiously away from him, murmuring to one another. Marty was certain by his point word had spread across the school about Irving Tannen's fate. That would explain the whispers. Marty understood how that felt. That had happened when he first began to hang out with Doc. "Marty?"

He didn't reply, unaware his name had been spoken, until George waved a hand in front of his face.. "Hello? Earth to Marty?"

The teenager's eyes drifted back to his father. "Yeah, sorry, was thinking about the homework...What were you saying?"

"Oh, I was wondering if Lorraine would show up for class today. She was gone all of last week, like you."

"I don't think so...she seemed pretty upset at the funeral if you ask me."

"Well, you would know more than me. You two disappeared and I couldn't find you guys anywhere."

Marty shrugged. "Sorry, she was upset, so I was just comforting her."

George released a sigh. "I should have been comforting her. I feel like such a bad boyfriend."

"George, you two just had a rough patch in your relationship. She's going to forgive you for neglecting her pretty fast, especially considering what happened to her dad."

"Well, if you say so..." George mumbled, appearing unconvinced, and much as he used to be in that moment. "Do you think she'll be back by tomorrow though?"

Marty's eyes drifted into the background, observing the students continuing to whisper about the former bully, as he began to open his locker. When his cronies approached, beginning to speak to him, he became unnaturally still. He mouthed an unknown sentence to them, shaking his head. The trio in front in him appeared confused, the one in the 3-D glasses mouthing a phrase back to him. Biff abruptly slammed his locker shut, shouting loud enough that everyone in the area heard him. "LEAVE _ME_ THE HELL ALONE!"

Everyone in the hallway, including George and Marty, startled at the sounds. The students nearby scurried away from him, while the bully's gang cowered slightly before his rage. Biff's face morphed into one of guilt for a split second, before resuming his scowl, and rushing out of the hallway. "I wonder what that was about?"

Marty bit his lip. "...George, I need to go."

"Go? The bell hasn't ra...Marty?" The teenager was already following after the former bully, turning around a corner to view him in the distance. He seemed to lumber in-between the students, who were beginning to create a pathway for the fuming teenager. His shoulders were tensed visibly, fists clenching tight enough that they appeared pale from here. He sped up his walking, ignoring the anxious high schoolers whispers. When he turned another corner, heading into a bathroom, Marty paused. This seemed extremely stalker-like, just as it had been the first time he had followed Biff. He shook the thoughts away though, realizing he was already to far deep in being involved. He couldn't back off now.

When he stepped inside, he froze, he was met with the sight of Biff pacing in front of the row of stalls. His face appeared to be turning a shade of scarlet, scowl deepening, and fists tighter than ever. "...Uh, Biff?"

His head snapped up, snarling. "What do _you_ want from me, butthead?"

"Uh...well, this is...look, just because...um, a-are you ok?"

"I'm fine, now leave me the fuck alone."

Marty cringed at the tone, stepping closer to him. "I just want t-"

"Look, you don't have to worry about me coming around to bug you or any shit like that, so just leave me alone already!"

"Well, I can't, because I'll already involved. I was there when your dad died, so I can't just act like nothing happened!" Marty was attempting to approach the situation calmly, but the behavior was beginning to piss him off.

"I didn't ask you to be there, Brown! I don't need help from any buttheads like you, so just go _away_!" Biff lashed a hand out, shoving Marty back into the sinks behind him, the brunet releasing a yelp of pain. There was a pause, with the pair panting, one from slamming his healing ribs onto a hard surface, the other from the force he exerted to do so. The former bully's voice calmed slightly, pointing to the door. "Get outta here."

"...what were your friends asking you about?"

"They're not my friends." Biff answered, no hesitation seen.

"What are they? Your groupies or some shit like that? Your tag team? Your cronies"

"Shut it and get outta here _now_!"

Marty continued on though. "Where they asking about your dad? You living in an orphanage now? Your grandma?"

Biff lurched forward, grasping Marty's collar into his thick hands, and leaning into his face. His warm breath pulsed into Marty's face, the time traveler's adam's apple wobbling, as he realized he might receive a punch to the face in the moment. The last topic was obviously the most touchy one, yet he had done so anyways. One would think someone such as Biff Tannen didn't care for anyone, but it was apparent to Marty there was at least one individual that he truly did for. Marty didn't cease his questions though. "I heard she has some sort of cancer. Is she going to...?"

The grip lessened, though the furious face panting inches from his own didn't. "Yes, is that what you want to hear, you piece of shit?"

"...Not really...she's important to you...I...get that."

The face leaned back, features softening. "If _you_ tell anyon-"

"What? No, I'm not going to tell anyone anything. I just want to help you."

The hands shoved him away, before crossing over his chest. "I don't want to be friends with you, _Brown_."

Marty adjusted his collar, scowling. "Good, because I don't think I want to be your friend either, after the way you just manhandled me."

Biff's fists clenched, that momentary guilt flashing across his face for a moment. "Did...?"

"What?" Marty's hands paused, barely moving.

"Did I...hurt you...?" His voice trailed off, barely heard in the confined space.

"No...just...I'm ok...My ribs are still healing from the car accident, but no, you didn't really hurt me."

Biff's hands fell to his sides, jaw tensing. "I could of though...like..."

Marty suddenly understood, feeling a sense of dread pooling in his stomach. He understood, perfectly, considered how concerned he had been himself of what he could become in the future. He spoke softly, using a similar tone he had used with his mother during the funeral over the weekend. "Biff...you're not your dad."

His eyes remained focused on the titled floor below, voice low. "I could be though."

The brunet thought of the future version of the man before him, hoping he would never meet him again. "Biff Tannen could."

"What?"

"Biff Tannen could become him, so why don't you be...you? Be you, instead of what your dad tried making you become."

The eyes drifted upwards, making contact with other teenager. "How?"

"Well, I guess starting over would be how. Uh...I could...we could start over right now," He extended his hand to the former bully. "I'm Calvin Martin Brown, nice to meet you. You can call me Calvin, Marty, I don't really care which."

Biff eyed the hand warily, before hesitantly reaching out a hand to firmly grasp his own. After a moment, Biff's face softened considerably, as though he were no longer Biff Tannen, but a new individual entirely. Marty wondered if perhaps this had been the first Buford Tannen, when he was young, and new in the world. Innocent, before the death of his mother, and the abuse of his father tainted him. Perhaps Marty wouldn't ever met the future Biff ever again. "I'm...I'm Buford Howard Tannen...and you can call me...H-Howard though. "

And that was when Marty met Howard.

 _~December 13th, 1955~_

"Uh, can I sit here?" Biff-Howard-asked, standing before their table with his lunch tray in hand. Marty and George glanced up from the science fiction comic book they were going over, surprise flitting across their faces, before Marty's lips spread into a smile. George frowned, opening to his mouth to object, but Marty nodded to the former bully. Howard plopped down beside Marty, opening his milk. "Thanks."

"Thought you would sit with your friends." Marty commented causally, as Howard chugged his milk.

"Yeah, well, I'm not in the mood."

"Ok, Marty, what's going on?" George appeared bewildered, grimacing as he glanced over at the other teenager.

"Well, we're eating lunch in a cafeteria, that's what's going on."

"No, I mean _this_." George gestured across the table to the pair.

Howard's eyes narrowed, setting down his milk. "You better watch yourself, McFly."

"George, he's just going to sit with us today, alright?" His eyes flickered over the blue eyed teenager, observing the glower he had aimed at his father. He hoped Biff wouldn't make a comeback. He already preferred Howard, considering how much less threatening he seemed. "And, tomorrow if he wants."

His eyes widened. "You can't be serious, Marty!"

Marty rolled his eyes. "I am, George."

"How can you forgive him like this, especially after what he tried pulling with Lorraine?"

"Listen, McFly, I didn't come over here to be judged, especially by the like's of you." Howard stated, a tone of fury underneath his voice, though it wasn't fooling Marty in the least. He appeared to be ashamed, his eyes lowering to the table, fists clenching in his lap. The actions that were anxious ticks, were subtly different enough that they could easily be thought of as one's of anger.

"Judging you?! You tried to rap-"

"No, no! I wouldn't do that!" Howard's tone rose in volume, denial evident in his voice, eyes wide.

"Well, it sure looked like it when I opened the car door!"

"I wasn't going to go that far, McFly!"

"I wouldn't put it past you t-!"

"Shut up, both of you! Stop provoking him, George! And, he wasn't going to do anything like that to Lorraine, alright?"

Howard was attempting to correct his mistake, Marty realized after what was about to occur, though it seemed he slipped up in a way he didn't mean to. "I swear, I was just going to kiss her and maybe feel her up a little bit, but that wa-"

Marty's eyes widened, as George stood, slamming his hands down onto the table hard enough that a few students at the surrounding tables startled. The time traveler knew this wouldn't end well. Howard's lips were sealed tight now, as George yelled at him, causing most of the cafeteria to cease speaking. "YOU SLEAZY, NO GOOD-!"

His father lunged across the table, before the sentence was fully formed, his body causing their food trays to clatter loudly to the floor. Marty fell from the bench, nearly slamming his head onto the floor, as Howard's body bumped into his own. As the former bully slid off beside him, George on top of him, Marty rolled away. George bashed his fists into Howard's body,while the students began to gather around their table, chanting for them to fight. After a few punches, the time traveler realized Howard wasn't fighting back, allowing each hit to bash against him. Only after blood appeared in the scene, did Marty step in. "JESUS CHRIST, GEORGE!"

He scrambled to stand, grasping at his shoulders from behind, attempting to drag him off. Marty didn't succeed in this, his father barely budging, as the students cheered them on. Marty felt a sense of dread, knowing this could escalate quickly, and that Howard was bound to fight back eventually, and severely injure his father in this action. When he was elbowed by his father, he stepped back, merging into the rowdy crowd, wondering where the teachers where. He glanced around, unable to tell if any were attempting to push through the crowd or not. He could hear the cafeteria doors opening, though he was sure if someone was entering or exiting. "Shit, shit!"

Marty stared around, aware by this point Howard didn't have any actual friends, and that he wasn't going to fight back. He didn't want to fight back. He spent so long fighting back against his father, that now that he wasn't worried he would come back, he didn't need to do so. He wanted to be Howard, not Biff, A mighty bellow was heard, a fist swinging back in relation, Biff's eyes burning bright. Marty's eyes widened, tackling the pair, in order to prevent the fight to escalate further. Of course, the moment he did so, the pair rolling over Howard, was when Strickland appeared. "What the devil is going on here?!"

The crowd immediately began to break up, leaving Howard laying on his back, hand over his nose, eyes squeezed shut. George's fist was frozen above Marty's face, as though he were about to punch him, while the other was reaching up to block the fist with his hands. The trio's eyes were all brought to the attention of the authority figure, frozen in place. "Brown, McFly, Tannen, what's the meaning of this?!"

The crowd was quickly disappearing, concerned they would be dragged into the man's fury, as he stepped closer. Marty spoke first, the only one of the three that seemed capable enough to do so. "Um...w-we..."

"The three of you are coming to my office, _now_." Strickland growled, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the cafeteria's doors.

Marty glanced over at Howard, observing the blood seeping out from his hands, a stream leaking into his hairline. He appeared unnaturally calm, as if he hadn't nearly lost control. George's bottom lip was split, perhaps from the punch that had been thrown in return, though it didn't appear as bad as Howard's face at the moment. "Uhh...I-"

" _Now,_ " George and Marty immediately scurried up at the tone, while Howard cringed. Marty wondered if he was reminded of his deceased father. Marty reached out a hand to the former bully, Strickland eyeing the action warily. One of the hands left his nose, grasping onto Marty's. The blood nearly made the hand slip, but he tightened his grip, and assisted him in standing. As Howard steadied himself, Strickland frowned. "Is that all your blood, Tannen?"

Howard nodded, while George paled, staring at the blood on his own hands. Marty bit his lip, before speaking up. "Uh, Mr. Strickland, I can take him to the nurse."

"Not until I understand what's going on here. I was going to do this in my office, but since everyone's already cleared out, I suppose I'll do it here," Strickland stepped towards a clean lunch table, gesturing for them to sit across from him. A napkin dispenser at their table caught Marty's eye, and he pulled out a couple. He handed them to Howard, who began to press them to his nose, and wipe at his hands a bit. Marty passed a few to George and he began to wipe the blood from them. "Who the hell started this?"

"Biff did." George immediately answered, which produced a glare from Howard at the words.

"Well, you actually threw the first punch..." Marty mumbled, which caught Strickland's attention.

The older man appeared bewildered at the words. " _You_ threw the first punch?"

George's face heated up, scarlet appearing on his face, as he stuttered. "W-Well, uhh, y-yes-I-I-"

"And, pray tell me why this occurred?"

"He...H-He...insulted my g-girlfriend..."

Strickland's face softened, obviously aware what had occurred with Lorraine Baines, before hardening once more. "And, you though physical violence was the answer?"

"I...welll...yes..." George appeared defeated at the words.

"You have anything to input, Tannen?" After a brief pause, Howard shook his head. "And how did you get involved with this, Brown?"

"I, uh, tried breaking it up, by uh...tackling George."

Strickland rolled his eyes. "Because, yes, that's exactly the solution to a fistfight, Brown."

Marty felt his cheeks burn, biting back a reply, though George spoke. "Um, s-sir, are we g-getting dentition?"

"Yes, all three of you are. You're getting two weeks for starting this in the first place, in my office everyday, after school, starting tomorrow," He turned to Marty, before continuing. "Same for you, except you get a week. And, you, Tannen, you're suspended for the next month. This is the eighth time now and I've warned you more than enough times throughout the year to stop this shit."

The time traveler's eyes widened, opening his mouth to protest Howard's punishment, though George did so first, surprising the other two with the lie. "S-Sir, he didn't actually fight back."

Strickland raised his eyebrow, while Howard's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you sure? This wouldn't be the first time."

"Yes, um, y-yes, I'm sure. All of the...b-blood came from him and I was the one to start it...a-and Marty was just trying to break it up. H-He didn't hit either of us, s-so..."

Strickland narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at Howard, and lowering his voice. "If I get one more report of this shit, you're not graduating, you hear? I don't care if you're having a hard time with personal issues, that doesn't excuse any of this bullcrap."

Marty expected anger, yet Howard simply nodded, averting his eyes. "Good. We're done here. I'll be personally taking Tannen here to the nurse and you two as going to head to class."

Before another word could be spoken, Howard and Strickland had left, leaving behind the other pair alone i the cafeteria. Marty frowned at George, hissing into his face. "What the hell was that, George?"

His father glanced down at the blood at his hands, cringing. "I-I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't mean to beat the shit out of him?" Marty sounded incredulous, feeling his temper rising at the feeble excuses.

"He was talking about f-feeling up Lorraine, that sic-"

"Well, if you want to know the truth, she was trying to feel me up too, even though I didn't want any of it!" The brunet revealed furiously.

George appeared somewhat guilty at the statement, though he sounded more annoyed than anything else. "A-And?"

Marty pinched the bridge of his nose. "And, his dad just died."

The other teenager bit his lip, before sighing wearily. "Marty, I know. I shouldn't be doing that to him, but I also shouldn't act like everything is normal, just because he's sad about his dad dying in an accident."

He released a sigh. "No, George, that's the thing. He's not sad about it."

"What? You mean to tell me that he doesn't feel anything about his da-"

"He's not sad, because his dad used to beat the shit outta him." He drifted off into whisper at the end.

"What?!" George cried out loudly, voice echoing throughout the room.

"That's why I was in the same accident as him. We were trying to protect him from his dad, but the asshole came after us. I thought we could, I don't know, try to get him to open up a little, and let him stay with us? His dad died though and now his grandma can't take care of him, so now he has to live in an orphanage until next March or whatever. I still wanna help him out though, just now it's harder to do it."

"Jesus, Marty, I-I didn't know that."

"No one knew, because no one would believe him. His dad had just got outta of jail or prison or whatever, so he just suddenly showed back up. I kept noticing all of these bruises on him though, because he was getting smacked around. It's actually probably why he bullies everyone. To cope with what happened to him when he was younger, you know? And, Strickland almost suspended him!"

"Look, Marty, I feel pretty bad for what I did. I mean, I didn't mean to..." He glanced down briefly at his hands. "Hurt him that bad, but...When he said he was f-feeling up Lorraine, I just felt so mad and..."

"I get it, and I'm not saying it was alright for him to do that, but he was trying to say sorry, even if it didn't really seem like it."

"Sorry?"

"Um...well, he's trying to...turn over a new leaf, I guess?"

"Oh...r-really?"

"Yeah, he was telling me earlier how he didn't want to pick on anyone anymore, you know?"

"Well, I-I suppose I should give him a chance if he's going to try to change...a-and I probably owe him an apology."

"I would wait until at least tomorrow, though, because I think you pissed him off."

"That might be a good idea. I hope I didn't hurt Biff too bad though."

"He might just have a couple of bruises tomorrow, but I'm guessing he's going to be fine. The blood was probably just from having his nose hit. He did the same thing to me, before the accident...oh, and he goes by Howard now, George."

"Howard?"

"It's his middle name and I guess he wants to try something new."

"Howard though? I wouldn't try my middle name, like you or him though. Douglas sounds really lame."

"That's not that bad. It could be something worse like...Lathrop."

His father appeared bewildered by the name. "Whose middle name is that?"

"Doc's and to be honest I feel pretty bad for him having a middle name like that," Marty laughed aloud. "Don't tell him I said that though."

"I don't think he would be happy if he did find out you said that...anyways, I kind of want all of... _this_ off my hands, so I'm going to head over to the bathroom."

Marty glanced up briefly at his shirt, revealing a handful of scattered blood stains. His hands seemed to be miraculously cleaned, but his shirt obviously hadn't been. He frowned, as the pair stood from the table. "Hey, George, you have any extra shirts in your locker?"

"I have my physical education one, if you would be willing to use it." The brunet offered, as they headed out the doors, and down the confirmed he would be alright with using it. His mind was more focused on his newest friend, concerned by the blood that had been on his face, and the swelling black eye he had begun to sport. He had the feeling that wasn't the worst injury the teenager had had though.

 _End Chapter 9_

 **Oops, it's been two months since the last update. I apologize? I've been busy, due to my schedule this semester, so updates are difficult to fit in. I struggled to even finished off my Gravity Falls fic, so I was focused on that for awhile. And, to be honest I nearly lost motivation to finish off this fic fully (I have outlines of each chapter, but not the full bulk of each one), but I prefer not to leave this uncompleted. Anyways, I might be able to update sometime with the next week or so. I want to thank you all for your patience though.**

 **Preview:**

"H-Hi, Lorraine." Howard stammered, fidgeting at the sight of her. Her eyes burned darkly at the sight of him, accusing him nearly. He gulped, eyes darting back down to the floor, realizing she was perhaps accusing of the accident. Even after the death of his father, he felt as though he continued to effect Howard's life, looming like a ghost over his life.

"...Hello, _Biff_." The voice bitterly answered, the feeling of eyes stabbing into him.

"Uh...Lorraine, I-I didn't know you were coming back to school today." Marty interrupted, clearly attempting to diffuse what was occurring.

"Oh, yes, I thought it was time to come back. I didn't think I would have _this_ reminder though."


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10  
_

 **Disclaimer:** ** **Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale own** Back to the Future, not me.  
**

 _~December 14th, 1955~_

"I want to...apologize for the way I treated you yesterday." George fidgeted anxiously, and avoided eye contact with Howard, clearly ashamed by his behavior the previous day.

Howard's hand held tightly to the locker door, knuckles beginning to whiten from the tightness. His right eyelid was nearly swollen shut, darkened bruises rimming it. His nose appeared to have swelled in size, though it was obvious that it hadn't been broken. George didn't even believe he could, if he truly wanted to. His own knuckled had actually been bruised from the punches he had dealt out, physical proof of how hard Howard's face was. The former bully's grip lessened in strength after a moment though, shutting the locker door gently. "I'm sorry for the way I treated Lorraine."

Marty visibly relaxed as the pair apologized to one another, though he warily eyed his father, awaiting his reaction. George nodded at the words, which in turn lessened the time traveler's intense gaze. "I can probably forgive you for that, but, um, I'm not sure if Lorraine will."

Howard didn't answer to that, shoulders tensing, as he re-locked his locker. Marty commented though, stepping to the left side of his new friend. Hey, Lorraine doesn't stay mad that long. As long as you actually be nice to her, she'll probably forgive you. You have probably a few more days until she comes back anyways, so you don't really have to worry about it right now, you know?"

The former bully grunted in response, while George bit his lip. Marty knew it was pointless to attempt to assure Howard, considering the fact that he knew as well as anyone else that his mother could hold a grudge well if she found it suited her. He didn't attempt to make any other reassures, as the trio headed down the hallway, through the crowds of students. The stares and whispers hadn't died down, in fact they had been increased in frequency, after what had occurred in the cafeteria yesterday. The most frequent questions he heard in the distant, were why Howard and George were calmly walking on either side of Marty, and why they weren't at each other's throats. He knew their peers would figure it out eventually, just as they had when Marty had first begun to interact with Doc as a 12-year-old. "Shit."

The mumble caught his attention and he glanced to his right. Howard's jaw was clenched tight, staring ahead at the row of lockers before him. George released what sounded to be a squeak, before muttering meekly to Marty. "I-I don't think she should see me with him, until I explain everything."

"Coward," Marty muttered back, before George backtracked, and headed in the opposite direction of the hallway. Lorraine's friend, Babs, spoke in a hushed tone with her, a hand placed gently on the shoulder of Marty's mother. She ceased speaking though, eyes darting towards Howard and Marty, as she realized they were there. Lorraine followed her gaze, smiling gently as she noticed Marty, though it dropped immediately as her eyes moved on to Howard. She straightened her shoulders, raising her head high, before approaching the pair. Howard stiffened, not expecting her to head in their direction. "Just, uh, don't say anything you're going to regret." He shot a disgruntled look at the time traveler, eyes appearing panicked though, before darting back to to the the teenager that had paused before them.

"H-Hi, Lorraine." Howard stammered, fidgeting at the sight of her. Her eyes burned darkly at the sight of him, accusing him nearly. He gulped, eyes darting back down to the floor, realizing she was perhaps accusing of the accident. Even after the death of his father, he felt as though he continued to effect Howard's life, looming like a ghost over his life.

"...Hello, _Biff_." The voice bitterly answered, the feeling of eyes stabbing into him.

"Uh...Lorraine, I-I didn't know you were coming back to school today." Marty interrupted, clearly attempting to diffuse what was occurring.

"Oh, yes, I thought it was time to come back. I didn't think I would have _this_ reminder though." She nearly spat, sounding as though she spoke to the scum of the earth.

Howard visibly flinched, eyes darting submissively to the floor below him. His cheeks burned with shame, nearly reminding the brunet of the way he acted when Irving Tannen had caught the pair on the porch. Marty opened his mouth, feeling as though he needed to intervene, yet Babs beat him to it. She stepped in front of Lorraine, shaking a finger at Howard, snarling. "You have some nerve showing your face around here, _Tannen_!"

His head shot up, clearly surprised that she had entered the conversation, taking a step back from her offending finger. "Babs, I-"

"Oh, no! I already told you in the 3rd grade, you don't get to call me that anymore! It's Barbra to you now!" Marty frowned at the words, as Howard preceded to take another step back, the finger jabbing into his chest. He was unaware that there seemed to be a history between them, with likely the pair being friends as children, before having a fallout. Lorraine didn't seem surprised though, more resentful than anything at the moment, watching on hatefully.

"Barbra, I just wanted t-" Marty interrupted, concerned that Howard would say something regretful, stepping in-between them. Babs retracted her finger immediately, before pursing her lips at him. Her eyes shifted back to the former bully, who was clearly attempting to control his rising anger. Marty smirked distractedly at her, not speaking, while she simply glowered back. Lorraine frowned at the exchange, though she didn't interrupt. After a moment, Howard roughly shoved Marty aside, fuming. "I can take care of myself, Marty."

"Did he just call you Marty?" Lorraine questioned quietly, confusion, and curiosity playing out across her face. Babs eyes narrowed further, suspicion evident in her facial features. Howard didn't answer, jaw twitching, as his eyes darted back to the time traveler. Marty wasn't able to speak, unsure of how to explain what had occurred between them, and how they had ended up as friends. After a moment of silence, dawning appeared on Lorraine's face, lips parting in shock. "You're...you're friends with him. You're friends with the jerk that got my father killed."

Howard appeared aghast at the words, while Marty felt startled at the misplaced blame of the accident. He wasn't even aware she blamed Howard for it, though he knew he should have noticed during the funereal, when they had spoken about the event. He knew he needed to immediately remove his new friend from the situation, aware that Howard already partially blamed himself from the incident. Howard spoke up first though, cheeks heating up with anger. "I did _not_ get him killed!"

His rising voice caught the attention of several students, beginning to stare at the scene occurring. Lorraine's voice rose as well, eyes burning as she answered him. "Yes, you did! Your father's car, hit his car, and _killed_ him!"

"That wasn't my fault!" Howard stepped forward, shouting into her face. Marty was frozen, uncertain on how to intervene by this point, Babs appearing to be in a similar boat, though she was more concerned about Lorraine, than how Marty was with Howard.

"It was! You probably told him to do it!" She screamed back, shaking her head, curls of hair bouncing into her face.

Howard reeled back, stunned at her words. While the rest of the student body present gathered around, vibrating with excitement at the drama, Marty felt his temper spike immediately at the words. He saw red in his vision, imagining his own blame at Doc's death, as he stepped up his mother, hissing at her. "He was in the same car as me, you bitch! And, we were trying to get away from his _abusive_ dad, who was tailing us! It's not his fault that your dad didn't look both ways, before driving into my uncle's car! You don't know anything about what happened, so just shut the hell up!"

His chest heaved, from his shouting he had released, healing ribs aching. The crowd of students were silent, stunned by the series of revelations, though not as much as Bab's and Lorraine's faces were. After a moment, Marty realized what he had said, paling dramatically. He turned around, hesitantly staring at the back of the former bully. He stepped in front of him, in-between Howard and the lockers now, to get a better look at his reaction. His eyes were distant, anguished, though his face was stony. He didn't turn around to the rest of the crowd, for which Marty was glad, since the tears swelling in his eyes would make the situation worse. Marty realized at this moment, that Howard didn't have any friends, except for him, and that he had already nearly screwed up the newly built friendship. The brunet whirled around to the crowd, scowling. "What're you all looking at? This isn't any of your business, so just get out of here."

None of the students moved for a moment. "Go!"

Finally, the students began to disperse, mumbling excitedly to one another. He continued to scowl at them, until they were finally alone, the bell ringing as they were doing so. Babs began to step away, without a word, hand lingering on her friend's forearm, attempting to tug her along. Lorraine jerked her arm away, glaring in Howard's direction. "I don't care what's happened to you, this is still your fault, and I won't ever forgive you."

Lorraine turned to Marty, frowning darkly. "I had hoped I would have a friend I could rely on."

His mother let Babs guide her away, while Marty watched on guiltily. He finally turned back to Howard with a sigh, hesitantly reaching up to touch his shoulder, to comfort him. When he spoke, his voice came out soft, similar tone as the one he had used at the funeral with Lorraine. "...hey, they're all gone now, so you don't have to worry about anyone seeing you."

"Brown, get the hell off me." The voice hoarsely answered with no heat behind it.

"I'm not leaving you know. I'm...you probably don't want to hear this, but I'm basically your only friend, so I'm not going to leave," Marty had been avoided like the plague, his friends abandoning him, when he continued to visit Doc, beginning to feel as though he were almost completely alone. If it wasn't for Doc's presence during this time, Marty was certain he would have been lonely. It took him awhile, but he found friends that didn't care. Howard would find some that wanted to be his friend one day. For now though, Marty would be Howard's Doc. "Besides, I've already been in a car accident for you, so it's already too late for me to turn back now."

They stood there in silence, before Howard answered. "...I hate him."

"So do I."

"...he...he used to blame me...for...for my mom...d-dying..."

Marty tightened his grip on the shoulder. "...you, uh, you think it was your fault?"

"Not anymore."

"...wanna come over to my house? We could watch some TV there or something."

"...sure."

 _~BTTF~_

"...Marty, I wasn't aware today was a half-day," Doc commented, as he wiped the slippery oil off of his hands with an old rag, approaching the sink in the kitchen. He had been experimenting with the fuel for the time machine in the garage, but had returned to the mansion to have his lunch. The blond had been surprised to discover Marty and Howard there though. He grasped the bar of soap, scrubbing it into his hands, before turning on the facet. "Or that Howard would be visitng."

The 17-year-old bit his bottom lip, before answering the scientist. "Uh, it's not a half-day. Lorraine was back today."

"Oh? And, how is she?" He turned off the facet, turning back around to the pair of teenagers sitting at the kitchen table. He knew Lorraine had been greatly upset by the lost of her father, and had been absent from school multiple days. Howard averted his eyes, staring down at the wooden material beneath him. His shoulders appeared tense, jaw twitched erratically. Marty licked his lips, not answering. "Was it that bad?"

"...worse..." The brunet muttered with a sigh.

Doc decided to leave it at that. He turned his attention to his guest, wiping his hands dry, and observing the view of the hanging head before him. Howard's hair had grown slightly in length, since he had last seen him in the hospital, and he thought that it appeared limp, as though he wore no product in it. He knew it was usually styled, which was why it was nearly strange to see it different than usual. "Do you still have a concussion, Howard?"

He didn't leave look up to reply. "No."

The scientist approached the conversation at a different angle. "How are you settling in at the orphanage?"

"Good."

"Do you have your own room? I would imagine you would, considering your age."

"Yeah."

"Do you keep all of your belongings with you or do you simply keep them at your house?"

"At my house."

Doc nodded, noticing Marty staring intently at the former bully. "Does your grandmother continue to own the the house?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to keep it, when you eventually inherit it?"

"No."

"Placing a house on the market as...aged as your's could prove to be difficult. If you need any assistance with updating the electricity in the building, I would be willing to do so, free of charge."

"I'm fine."

"Howard, could you quit acting like that already?" Marty finally groused at his friend, which received a glower in return. Doc noticed a glint of tears in his eyes, as though he were attempting to hold them back, but he didn't comment on it. "Can you actually answer the questions or are you going to keep up that monotone reply shit your doing?"

"I'm not in the mood to talk, Brown." Howard answered heatedly, tears dissolving.

Marty rolled his eyes. "Well, you shouldn't have taken my offer to come over then."

"Jesus Christ, fine! No, I don't have a concussion anymore, but my ears do this weird ringing shit sometimes. I have my own room, because I'm the oldest, and I'm gonna be stuck in that hellhole for a few months! The little snottnosed brats there keep trying to talk to me, but I don't want any of them near me! They're annoying as hell, though Marty is probably worse than them. Most of my stuff is at my house, because my grandma owns it, so I can keep stuff there. When I inherit that piece of shit, I'm going to sell it, because I hate it! If you think fixing electricity in that dump will get me more money, then do whatever the hell you want! There, you happy?" Howard's mouth turned into a scowl, slouching down into his seat.

Doc pulled out a seat in-between the pair, settling down in it, while Marty felt his lips tug up into a smile. "You feel better now?"

"I would feel a hell of a lot better, if you didn't shout in the damn hallway about my dad."

The scientist felt alarmed at the words, looking to his younger friend for an explanation. "Shit, Howard, you know I didn't mean to."

"Really? It sure sounded like it, butthead! I should beat the shit outta you for doing that!" Howard leaned forward, scowling at his friend.

Marty, once again, rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you probably should, but I know you won't."

"You think so? I can do it right now!" The former bully slid the chair out from beneath himself, standing.

"Howard, Marty, enough!" Doc interrupted the pair, standing to block Howard from moving forward.

"You can't tell me what to do, Brown!"

"You are a guest here, Howard, so I believe I do have authority to do so. I won't condone physical violence in my household, under any circumstances. I understand you are upset that Marty would reveal personal information to your peers, but you will not assault him for it," Doc answered, crossing his arms over his chest, and puffing up his chest slightly. After a moment of silence, Howard flushed, appearing shamed at his behavior. He plopped back down into the seat behind him, tears visibly prickling in his eyes. Doc's gaze softened, speaking gently. "I'm not angry, Howard, but I won't allow any harm to come to nephew."

Marty felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the protective words, though the feeling was immediately replaced by alarm, when a tear rolled down the humiliated former bully's cheek. His wiped it away, hanging his head, as Marty scooted his seat closer to Howard. Doc placed a hand on Howard's shoulder, feeling the shaking from his body. "Howard, it's alright to let it out. Neither Marty or I will judge you for doing so."

He jerked his shoulder away, growling. "I don't need your help, just leave me the hell alone already!"

"Howard, seriously, we aren't going to make fun of you." Marty placed his hand on the young Tannen's forearm, patting the bare flesh. Though Howard didn't answer, he released a miserable sob, hiding his face into the table, to avoid the pair actually catching a glimpse of his tear-stricken face. When Doc replaced his hand back onto the teenager's shoulder, he didn't jerk away this time.

 _~December 24th, 1955~_

While the rest of the semester of school had continued off with not much drama, a change had occurred in all of those that had witnessed the situation involving Howard and Lorraine. While the students of the school had begun to accept that the former bully didn't intend to continue his previous activities, and that he no longer went by "Biff", there remained an obvious distrust of him. Howard had only two friends by this point (perhaps one and half), considering tat George tolerated his constant presence around Marty now. They didn't have much in common, though they were to find similar topics to speak briefly about to one another at times. Howard was also beginning to improve his relatively low grade, which may of accounted to him making an actual attempt in school now. While he continued to dislike the orphanage, he supposed it wasn't as bad as it could be. He was at the Brown mansion more often than he was there though. The former bully was still wary of Doctor Emmett Brown, but wasn't as much so, since his breakdown he had endured there the week prior. For now, he supposed he was content with how things were.

The issue was Lorraine Baines. Ever since that day in the hallway, he received continuous dirty looks from her and her friends. George would attempt to hide, each time she came around, so that he wouldn't be in the same boat Marty was with her right now. Howard didn't know how he did it, but George had been able to hide himself quite well, either ducking under the lunch tables, or into different hallways, each time she appeared, when he was with Marty, and Howard. He was actually surprised that the strange hiding spots had made him a handful of times, which in turn received glares from George. Howard hadn't ever thought he would able to consider himself to be on friendly statues with a McFly, yet here he was, actually invited over to a Christmas Eve dinner at the Von Brown mansion.

To his left was Marty, shoving a whole into his mouth, while Doc was on his right, discussing his George an episode of a type of science-fiction television show. George had been late to the dinner, since he had already been at one earlier, with his relatives, though he was able to made an escape to momentarily join them. Doc hadn't any living relatives left, aside from Marty it seemed, and he didn't appear to have any friends to invite. He supposed that wasn't usual, considering the rumors that constantly circulated around him. Howard though, he only had his grandmother, and extremely distant relatives somewhere in Texas (they hadn't wanted anything to do with him). He had spent every Christmas, since his father ad left, watching TV with grandmother the entire day. That had been their tradition, but he found that he was beginning to enjoy the concept of a Christmas dinner in the dining room. He hadn't gone to see his grandmother though and he wondered if he could ever work up the courage to do so.

"Howard?" Marty spoke with his mouth full, voice muffled by the bread crammed in.

He jolted from his thoughts, scowling. "What?"

"You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Marty lowered his voice, clearing his throat. "...you going to visit your grandma tonight?"

Howard shrugged. "Don't know."

"Did you wanna go after dinner? Me or Doc can come with you if you want."

"Don't think I really wanna go."

"Tomorrow? I'm pretty sure she wants to see you."

Howard squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his temper flare slightly. "Marty, I don't know if I want to go and see her at all."

"How come?"

"Because, she...she's not...She wouldn't want to see me. The old bat's always yelling at me about something or other, so it's kinda obvious she doesn't want to."

"I think she cares more than you think. I don't think she would have wanted to raise you otherwise."

"She didn't raise me, butthead; I didn't live with her, until I was eleven. "

Marty rolled his eyes. "I think that counts though."

"I think you should keep in mind the beeswax."

"It's 'you should mind your own beeswax'."

Howard clenched his jaw, speaking through gritted teeth. "...whatever, just pass me another roll."

 _~December 25th, 1955~_

Howard stared at the glittering lights of the Brown Christmas tree, early Christmas morning, wondering how different he could have been if his grandmother had raised him his entire life. While Gertrude Tannen grumbled and moaned as much as he did, nagging him on a constant basis, she didn't ever once raise a hand to him, or even insult who he was as a person (she may of called him an idiot, and a dolt, but it felt more affectionate than anything). It made him wonder, how her son could have possibly began to abusive man that he had been. Howard didn't know much about his grandfather, who had passed years before he was born, but he suspected that he had been as bad as his own father. He supposed he was glad he didn't have to be raised by his grandfather, only his grandmother. He wished though, he wished he had been raised his entire life by his grandmother.

He stood from the couch, stumbling through the dark, to the kitchen. Doc had offered him a spare bedroom to spend the night in, but he found himself more comfortable with sleeping on the couch. He flicked on the light, heading over to a cabinet, that had pens, and papers sacked inside. He removed a piece of paper, scrawling across it in pen. " **Walking to the hospital to see my grandma. Will be back in awhile. -Howard.** "

The former bully removed his jacket from the coat rack, sliding his arms into the sleeves, and settled himself down into the entry way, to haul on the pair of snow boots. He tied the laces, before bringing himself up to his full height. When he dug into his pockets, he found his pair of gloves, and tugged them on. He opened the door, feeling a chilled breeze roll across his exposed face, and slammed it shut behind him. He strolled down the street, heading towards the rising sun, the snow swirling around him.

Marty peered out a window blearily, observing the figure disappearing into the distance. The door slamming had awoken him, bringing him curiously to the living room to view who had left. He headed into the kitchen, intending to find some breakfast, despite the fact that it was six, and he could actually sleep-in if he wanted to. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep though, not after being roused in such a manner. He noticed a piece of paper on the table, plucking it up to read it. He rolled his eyes after doing so. "Figures he would go by himself..."

"Marty?" Doc entered the kitchen, blond hair sticking up in strange angles, and dark circles around his eyes. "You're up quite early this morning."

"So are you. Did you even sleep last night?"

"Oh, an hour or so. I decided to stay up later in the night to labor over the time machine."

"You figure out any alternatives to the fuel?"

"Unfortunately, I haven't much success as of late. I had hoped you would have recalled any ingredients, but as it is, you haven't much luck doing so. I'll have to continue mixing together various components, before I can discover the correct mixture."

"This...isn't gonna make anything light on fire, right?" Marty hesitantly asked, the image of the newspaper article about the Von Brown mansion burning down coming to mind.

Doc gave him an alarmed look. "I would hope not. I'm being certain not to mix components that have no business being together, to prevent such an occurrence."

"Right, just don't want this to end up being like the model you made of the time machine, when you were trying to get me back to 1985 that first time."

"That was a mere electrical mistake on my part and it won't happen, again," Marty grimaced, heading over to the fridge to retrieve a milk carton. The scientist frowned, as Marty slammed the door shut, and heading back to the table to set it down. "Am I about to hear more than I wish to about the future?"

"Wellll, let's just say that it wouldn't be the first time you almost lite something on fire," The teenager opened the pantry, removing a box of Coca Puffs. He briefly glanced at the cover, revealing a quite frankly disturbing depiction of Sonny the Coca Bird. He unnaturally sharp beak and pinstriped suit made Marty nearly shudder, wondering if the design would ever get any better (the 80s version was just as horrible appearing). "Look, all I'm asking, Doc, is can you just be careful? I don't want to wake up one day, to see the mansion on fire, you know?"

"Marty, I'm not lighting anything on fire."

"I hope not..." The brunet mumbled at his cereal, pouring the milk into the bowl.

 _~BTTF~_

"Uh, Gertrude Tannen?" Howard asked the nurse at the desk, by the entrance of the hospital. She glanced up from the romance novel she read, chewing her gum lazily. She set down the book, adjusting her glasses, before spinning around in her office chair, to a row of books stacked on a shelf behind her. She removed one from the front of the row, flipping it open to peer inside.

"124."

"Thanks," He answered, before heading down the hallway. His shoulders were tense, jaw twitching minutely, as he down it. A few patients and nurses caught a glimpse of his face, immediately turning in the opposite direction. Howard didn't necessarily mean to startle people (at least not anymore), but it seemed as though he did anyways. To be honest, he was nervous to catch a glimpse of his grandmother The last time he had seen her, was when she became bedridden a day or two after his father returned. He hadn't been allowed in the room at all. His father didn't want him to. Now though, he was finally able to actually see her. The question was, did she actually want to see him?

When he stepped into the room, his grandmother looked up from the the copy of the "East of Eden" she was reading. He nearly scoffed at the sight of it, knowing well that she had read the novel multiple times. Frankly, he hated it, finding it to be by far the most boring plot to ever be conceived. He wasn't a fan of reading in general though, so he supposed it didn't matter exactly how much he hated it. What did make him scoff though, was his grandmother scowling at him. "It's about time."

"Jesus Christ, you're still moan and bitch, even when you're dying, don't you?" He rolled his eyes, stepping into the room, and pulling up a chair to her bedside. Just as he did so, she reached out, smacking him on the back of the head. He cringed at the touch, before giving her an incredulous look, unbelieving that she had actually struck him. "Ow, grandma!"

"Don't you talk to me like that, you dolt! I may be dying, but that doesn't mean I'll tolerate you talking to me like that!"

"You don't have to hit me! I walked here, through the damn snow, to see you on Christmas, and you hit me!" He gestured to her window, revealing the mounds of snow piled in the streets.

She rolled her eyes. "Stop being a sissy and come closer."

He frowned. "You're not gonna hit me, again, are you?"

"Just shut the hell up and come closer already!" He hesitantly complied, surprised as she wrapped her frail arms around the back of his neck, and leaning into him. She whispered into his ear, sounding hushed. "You don't have to worry about Irving anymore, alright?"

He mumbled back into her ear. "He was you son, Grandma."

"Yes, he was, doesn't mean I approve of him beating the shit outta you. You never deserved it and he got what was coming to him," He embarrassingly felt tears welling in his eyes. He had been doing quite often as of late and wasn't able to stop it. Perhaps they were the tears he wanted to shed over the years, the ones he didn't, finally rising to the surface. "You're a good grandson, Buford."

"It's Howard," He answered, pulling her away from, crossing arms across his chest. "I don't go by that anymore."

She squinted her eyes. "You're going by my father's name?"

"Yeah, it's my middle name. You got something to say about it, Grandma?"

"No. What I do have to say is that I hope I didn't wait for you to visit for over a month, for you not to get me a Christmas present."

Howard rolled his eyes, reaching into his jacket, and removing a novel. "Merry Christmas."

Gertrude snatched it from his hands, glaring at it. "It still has the price sticker on it."

"Bought it on the way here."

"'The Grapes of Wrath'? I hate this shit."

"Jesus Christ, Grandma, I though you like that Steinbeck guy."

"Doesn't mean I like everything he writes."

"Oh my god, even on Christmas you're a bi-"

"If you finish that sentence, so help me God, you'll get the worse pop to the mouth you've ever experienced."

"Why the hell did I come here, if you're just going to nag me?"

"Because, if you didn't come on Christmas, I would find you myself, and giving your hinny a whooping for making me wait so long. You should have just bought me a pack of cigarettes."

"...Grandma?"

"What now?"

"Uh...how long...how long did the doctors...?" He trailed off, hands squeezing tightly into fists.

She narrowed her eyes. "...a few months."

"Oh."

"What're you planning on doing with my house, Howard?"

"Um, sell it."

"Good. That place is a dump and needs to go. Do me a favor, would you?"

"What?"

"Buy yourself some new house, alright? You're getting all my money when you turn eighteen, so spend it on something that'll actually last you. No flashy cars or any unnecessary shit like that. And, go to college. You can make more money that way."

"Grandma, I'm not going to college. That's for a bunch of buttheads."

"Well, if you're not going to college, at least start up business. What're you interested in? Cutting hair? Car dealerships?"

"I don't know! I guess something that makes rich?"

"Well, you better figure it out soon, because you're graduating this year, and I'm not going to be around by then," Howard stared down at his lap, fiddling his thumbs at the words. "Howard, I know you don't want to hear it, but I don't have much longer. The cancer in my lungs, it's spread a lot they say. I might not even be around for your birthday."

"I know..."

"More importantly, what's this I hear about you hanging out with Brown and his nephew?"

 _~BTTF~_

"Merry Christmas, Marty," Doc hauled up a prolonged box, wrapped in a paper depicting Frosty the Snowman and Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. Marty frowned at the sizable package, feeling the weight in his lap, as he settled it there. He tore off the wrapping paper, dropping it the living room floor. A cardboard box was revealed underneath. The teenager lifted the lid of the box, revealing a dark guitar case. Marty ceased breathing, opening the latches with trembling hands. Inside a guitar was revealed. After a moment of staring at the black instrument, he realized it was a Gibson ES-345, the same one he played on the stage the first time he traveled here. He looked up to his friend. "If you don't like it, I could always make a return. You mentioned you enjoy playing the guitar and I heard that at the dance you played one and I simply though it would be app-"

He felt a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close. "I love it. Thanks, Doc."

Doc patted his back, beaming at the words. "I'm glad you do, Marty."

Marty pulled up, grinning wildly. "You have that stereo system in the garage yet?"

"Yes, how did y-"

"Used them in the future. You mind if I go plug it in?"

"No, of course not. Go right on ahead."

"O-Oh, shit. I almost forgot your present. Hold on," Marty set the guitar case onto the couch, scrambling to the floor, and looking underneath the tree. He removed a package out from underneath, shoving it into Doc's hands. The scientist gently tore away the paper, that depicted an imagine of Haddon Sundblom's Santa Clause drinking a Coca Cola. When he finally revealed the contents of the card box underneath the wrapping paper, he gasped. "Well?"

"Oh, Marty, I-I don't...I don't know what to say...this must of cost a fortune..."

"And, my guitar didn't? Seriously, don't worry about the money. I had some saved up from when your future version gave me some bills from this time, so it's not big deal. Do you like it though?"

"I do, Marty," Doc stared at the pile of Jules Verne classics, ranging from "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea" to "Around the World in Eighty Days". While he did own quite a few of the author's novels, they had been worn down over the years, and a few had been lost over the years. These copies appeared to be brand new though, in covers he had never seen in his life. He reached out, the pair embracing in a hug for the second time that day. "Thank you, my friend."

He didn't mention that in 30 years, he might not be alive to read them.

 _End Chapter 10_

 **I can explain why I'm posting a Christmas Chapter in the middle of April: I'm really behind on the plans I had of posting each other, and if I was actually on the right track, I would have already finished this. By this point, we're nearly to the beginnings of the massive time skips between each chapter, so be prepared for that. I'll try to post a new chapter either either one or two weeks, but I can't make any promises as of now. I apologize if anyone finds the characters too OC right now, but I'm attempting to transition gradual changes with them, while keeping certain characteristics. Anyways, few notes for this chapter: The 1950's is when carton milk is first introduce, while the decades before had been using glass jars, that were delivered by milkmen. The Coca Puffs mascot from the 1950's is really horrific and I suggest to _not_ Google him for any reason. Finally, the last line in the chapter is a reference to the fact that Doc hasn't informed Marty yet, that his future self is murdered by Mad Dog Tannen in 1885.  
**


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